


bottle up and explode

by idiotgrimes



Category: Love Simon (2018), Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda - Becky Albertalli, The Upside of Unrequited - Becky Albertalli
Genre: Alternate Universe - SKAM Fusion, M/M, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, POV Alternating, Slow Burn, mix of bookverse + movieverse, upside characters live in georgia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-04-23 02:21:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 32,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14322429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idiotgrimes/pseuds/idiotgrimes
Summary: Before, the gay thing had always been pushed into the back of Bram’s mind. He wasn’t ashamed, he just figured he wouldn’t have to worry about it until after university, when“I’m focusing on my schooling,”doesn’t work as an excuse to avoid dating anymore.Then, Garrett gets paired up with Leah Burke in Human Physiology, develops a crush in the matter of a single class, and all but begs Nick to invite them to his lunch table.(The next day, upon arriving to said table, Bram learns that he cannot string together a coherent sentence in front of cute boys.)





	1. [BRAM] Good Luck, Bram Greenfeld

**FRIDAY**

Deep down, Bram understands and accepts what he is.

There’s never been a moment in his life where he’s seen a girl and thought of having her in his bed. Objectively, yes, he believes girls are beautiful. Guys, as well. That’s the dilemma.

Where he’s never envisioned kissing a girl, he’s thought about kissing boys. Running his hands down a flat chest, deep-voiced groans as he slips his fingers beneath a waistband.

Bram Greenfeld is, as much as it’s difficult to think about sometimes, gay.

This isn’t where the problem lies.

 _The Problem_ (capitalized, because it’s a fairly-large concern) is Nick’s best friend, Simon Spier.

Before, the gay thing had always been pushed into the back of Bram’s mind. He wasn’t ashamed, he just figured he wouldn’t have to worry about it until after university, when _“I’m focusing on my schooling,”_ doesn’t work as an excuse to avoid dating anymore.

Then, Garrett gets paired up with Leah Burke in Human Physiology, develops a crush in the matter of a single class, and all but begs Nick to invite them to his lunch table.

(The next day, upon arriving to said table, Bram learns that he cannot string together a coherent sentence in front of cute boys.)

This brings us two weeks later, to the day Simon Spier wears a dark blue hoodie that makes him look both _cute_ and _hot_ at the same time, which Bram hadn’t realized could be done until now—

“Hello? Earth to Bram?” Simon waves his hand in front of Bram’s face, “Can I get some fries?”

With a slight nod, Bram slides his tray in Simon’s direction. “Thanks,” Simon smiles, taking a handful before butting back into Nick and Leah’s conversation, thankfully before the blush on Bram’s face becomes evident.

Stabbing the meatloaf on his tray, Bram wonders what god he’s pissed off to develop a huge, fat crush on such an unobtainable boy.

The rest of the school day passes slowly, as it always seems to do on Fridays. By the time the last bell rings, Bram’s ready to go home and fall into bed for a two day hibernation. However, as he’s sliding his key into the ignition of his civic, Garrett climbs into the passenger side seat.

“Party at Eisner’s place tonight,” He’s grinning, face flushed, and breath slightly hitched from what Bram could only assume was a run to catch the car. “He’s holding a pregame for his friends, ‘n I told them we’d come.”

Bram leans his head back, closes his eyes and takes two deep breaths.

For a moment, he’s tempted to be selfish and say _no_ , but he ditched Garrett’s back to school party the week before. “Fine,” Bram leans foreword, starts the car. “Just get out of my car, man.”

His best friend grins brightly as he tumbles out of the car. “I owe you!” He shouts in typical Garrett fashion before slamming the door shut.

 _Yes_ , Bram thinks, _You really, really do_.

 

 

 

 

As it turns out, the pregame is spent talking about Nick’s relationship with Abby. Or, the new physical side they’re discovering in various ways. Garrett seems to be happy talking about his friend getting laid, but it’s a boring subject to Bram, even a little gross.

“I think I did it right? I mean, I didn’t _know_ because the site only offered pictures but I’m guessing I hit the g-spot, because she went crazy.”

“I thought the g-spot was on top?” Garrett’s been on the edge of his seat all story, gorging on pizza.

“Doesn’t matter. What matters is that I’ve never felt so good before. Like, I haven’t been with _many_ girls, but,” Nick’s eyes quickly glance over to the stairs before he lowers his voice and says, “I’ve never cum as much as I do with Abby.”

Maybe it’s because all this talk about hetero sex is disgusting to Bram, but he doesn’t feel as if Nick should be sharing this. “Is Abby okay with you telling us?”

Nick looks pensive for a moment, but Garrett rolls his eyes and steals the reply with, “Look, Greenfeld, _buddy_ , it’s what us guys do. We talk about sex with friends.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Bram snags the last slice of pizza, “Your sex life doesn’t exist.”

Garrett grabs it before Bram could take a bite, “Two way street, my dude. Your sexually frustrated ass doesn’t get any action, either.”

“Whatever, man.” He admits defeat, standing up, “I’m going to get a drink.”

“Aw, c’mon, don’t be mad,” Garrett’s saying, but Bram’s already half-way up the stairs.

Abby, Leah and Simon glance over when Bram opens the door to the basement. They’re seated on the kitchen chairs, leaning over the table as if they’re sharing classified information. Bram deduces that it’s the same information Nick’s sharing in the basement.

He quickly walks to the fridge and pulls out a bottle of beer, twisting the cap off as he closes the door. In his pocket, his phone goes off with a call. “Hello?” Bram asks, walking into the livingroom.

“A girl named Jackie was just here,” His mother cuts to the chase, and oh. Shit.

Amongst getting ready for the party and FaceTiming Garrett while doing so, Bram’s mind was so preoccupied that he completely forgot about inviting Jackie over. They were supposed to work on the draft for their English assignment.

“A wonderful girl, so smart! You sure do know how to pick ‘em, Abraham.” His mother is gushing, “She stayed for tea and we talked about so much! Did you know she’s getting all high nineties in all of her classes, including the AP ones? Oh, darling, you two would be _excellent_ for each other. Imagine the IQ your children would have, not to mention their _looks_ , oh, that Jackie was _beautiful_ —”

“Has she left?”

“I sent her home and told her you’d buy her lunch as an apology.” There’s a pause, “Where are you?”

“Nick Eisner’s,” He replies, careful not to mention Garrett. His mother isn’t stupid, though, and asks the question Bram was dreading. “Yes, he’s here.”

There’s a pause so prolonged that Bram pulls the phone away from his ear to see if she’s hung up. She hasn’t. “You know how I feel about that boy.”

“Yes.”

She sighs, “I think you could do so much better than that. The friends you choose aren’t at your… _level_ … honey.”

“Garrett’s in AP English.”

“As you continuously say.”

“Who I’m friends with does not determine my grades,” Bram feels himself getting angry, “Garrett’s—”

“I trust you,” His mother says, “One hundred percent, I trust you.”

“ _Goodbye_ ,” Bram says, ending the call before a fight could spawn.

Although he could hear Abby and Leah’s hushed whispers and the occasional bark of laughter from downstairs, the house felt empty. _Bram_ felt empty. Who did his mother think she is?

Simon walks in just as Bram’s about to send Garrett a text with some bullshit excuse to go home. “Hi,” He greets, falling into one of the armchairs.

Bram sends him a smile over the light of the screen, before his eyes flick back down. The words are in the textbox, ready to be sent.

Simon says, “You don’t like hanging out with us, do you?”

 _No_ , Bram thinks about saying, _I enjoy hanging out with Nick, Abby and Leah, it’s_ you _I don’t like spending time with_.

But Bram knows that’s a lie.

“I don’t mind,” His voice comes out quieter than he means for it to, “I’m just tired.”

“Oh, man, me too.” Simon kicks one leg over the armrest, leaning back in the chair sideways. He’s either oblivious to how attractive he is, or just being a tease. “Mr. Wise gave us that project and I got partnered with _Martin Addison_. I mean, he’s not the worst, but not the best, you know?”

Bram just nods, unable to piece together a sentence when Simon looks like _that_.

“Maybe we could ask to switch,” Simon ponders out loud, “I mean, you’re smart, I’m pretty smart. We’d make a good team.”

The doorbell rings as Bram nods. Simon sends a bright grin in return, before bounding up and towards the door.

On his phone screen, the excuse still sits in the textbox. Bram deletes it out, and taps on the number Jackie had given him.

_Hello, this is Bram Greenfeld from English. I apologize for missing you at home, but I’d like to speak with you tonight about something._

He types out Nick’s address and adds a smiley face for good measure. The message sits unsent as Bram’s eyes wander over to the kitchen, where Simon and Nick are greeting the newcomers. Simon’s laughing at something the girls had said, eyes crinkling at the corners and face flushing.

Partnering up with Simon would just be feeding _The Problem_ , Bram knows. But it would also allow them to spend time together. _Alone_. No lunch table separating them, no Nick or Abby or Garrett. It’s all his selfish heart craves and brain fears.

Bram hits send.


	2. [SIMON] There Are Way Too Many People Here

**FRIDAY (CONT.)**

After the first few guests arrive, the party takes off. Within an hour, more people than those who were invited show up. Simon knows—he helped make the invite list.

Upstairs is filled with loud music and dancing, while Simon finds downstairs to be the chilling place of a few kids smoking cigarettes. He slips past unnoticed and takes refuge from the smell in the small bathroom.

The bathroom isn’t a good place to avoid smell, however, because it absolutely _reeks_ of marijuana. Nick is laying in the bathtub, legs splayed out the sides. Will is near him, passed out as well, leaning against the side of the tub and drooling against one of Nick’s legs. There’s a bottle of vodka spilled on the floor, a bag of weed laying in the mess.

It’s surprising to say the least. Simon didn’t even know Nick _did_ that stuff, let alone be so careless about it.

Unamused, Simon tosses the towel from the rack onto the floor to cover the spilled drink, before making the attempt to wake Nick up. “There are way too many people here and your parents are going to kill you, which is understandable because I’m pretty sure I saw someone taking the TV from your livingroom.”

The only reply he receives is a grumble as Nick swats his hand away. That right there, that _moment,_ is when Simon decides he hates Drunk-Nick.

(He spends the next few seconds sending a prayer out to every god possible that _he_ won’t end up a lazy drunk like his best friend. Or a sad drunk like Leah. Simon wants to be like Abby, who somehow gets even happier when she’s under the influence.)

Simon picks up the soaked towel and tosses it across the room, before grabbing the bottle and bag. He sets the vodka on the sink gingerly, but quickly pockets the weed when the door swings open.

“Oh, hi, Simon,” Jackie—middle school _girlfriend_ Jackie—grins, obviously tipsy.

“Hey,” Simon replies slowly, “I didn’t know you were coming.”

He really didn’t. She wasn’t on the invite list.

“Bram told me to come, um, said he needed to talk to me.”

Simon brightens at this. “Yes! Okay, so, I have no idea where he is, so I’ll just ask you. We were thinking of maybe switching groups.”

Jackie furrows her eyebrows for a moment, swaying on her feet in a way that suggest that yeah, maybe she’s a more than tipsy. Then her mouth goes into an “o” shape, “I get it.”

“Oh, thank god,” Simon exhales, thinking it would take a bit more explaining to the drunk girl.

“Simon, I’ve liked you since the sixth grade, why would I say no?” She takes a step foreword, “Of _course_ I’ll be your partner.”

There are few moments in Simon’s life where he wishes he were on _The Office_ , so he could look into the cameras to properly convey just how _done_ he is.

Right now, _right here_ , is one of those times.

“No, Jackie—” He chuckles nervously, “I mean—”

“Bram was boring, anyway. Hot, but boring. You’re all—” She waves her hands about, drink sloshing out of the cup, “— _adorable._ And you actually talk.”

“Okay, that’s—” Simon shifts awkwardly, “Uh, okay. I didn’t mean—”

“Simon!” Leah appears at the doorway, eyes wide. “The cops are here.”

“Shit, shit,” He tries to shake Nick awake again, but nothing works. Leah all but shoves him away, in the direction of the door.

“Go, I’ll get him up,” She points to the door when Simon hesitates, “My mom will forgive me if I get caught, yours will ground you for life. Go.”

“Are you sure?”

“ _Go_ , Si.”

Feeling guilty, Simon shoves past Jackie and jogs up the stairs two at a time. The cops are barging in, weaving through teens that haven’t made it out yet. It only dawns on him when there are cops very, _very_ close that he has a bag of _weed_ in his pocket. So, he does the first thing he could think of, and hides the bag in one of the jars on the kitchen counter.

He shoulders past Taylor and Morgan and a bunch of other kids to get to the backdoor, which he slides open to escape outside. The cops aren’t out back, thankfully, so Simon climbs the fence, jogs between houses and he’s home free.

As he walks down the main road in the direction of his house, Garrett and Bram blow past him on Garrett’s bike. “Goodnight, Spier!” Garrett shouts as Bram waves, standing on the back pegs.

It’s such a stupid sight, Simon can’t help but laugh.

 

 

 

 

**SATURDAY**

Simon wakes up to the shred of an electric guitar and immediately curses his parents for getting Nora the stupid thing last Christmas.

“Thin walls!” He shouts, banging to emphasize. Nora just plays some riff, volume even louder than before. Simon groans, laying an arm over his eyes as he uses the other hand to feel about his end table.

 _Blue or green?_ Is a text from Martin, which has an attached photo of two equally ugly t-shirts.

Simon ignores the text and clicks into the groupchat.

 **To:** _Leah Needs New Friends (PS, Shut Up Garrett)_

 **Abby:** how long is he grounded for?

 **Leah:** He’s a momma’s boy. Probably not long.

 **Nick:** ):

 **Nick:** A week

 **Nick:** And I have to pay for my dad’s TV

The amp suddenly cuts off and it only takes a few moments before Nora’s opening Simon’s bedroom door and letting herself in.

“Hello? Teenage boy here, knock next time?” Simon sits up as Nora climbs into the bed beside him, Bieber following suit.

“Simon!” Alice’s voice comes from Nora’s phone. She looks well put together for it being so early in the morning in LA.

“Hi, Alice,” Simon takes the phone from Nora with one hand, the other rubbing the sleep from his eyes, “How’s college?”

“Good, good. My roommate’s a gym shark and wakes up at five o’clock in the morning, so that sucks,” She shrugs, “But I guess it feels refreshing to get up early. What about you, Si? How’s Shady Creek?”

“Oh, you know. Same as always. Dad’s been watching _Master Chef_ a lot lately, so let’s just hope he finds a different show by Thanksgiving.”

Alice laughs, loud and bright, “Oh, he’s the worst cook ever!”

“I _know_!”

Her smile turns a bit softer, almost _sad_. Nora must notice, too, because she snags the phone from Simon and asks, “What’re you doing today?”

Alice blows out a breath, “I dunno, but I’m sure I’ll find something to do. I don’t really have many friends yet, so—”

“You’re in _Los Angeles_. Go to, like, a mall or something.” Simon says, leaning towards Nora so he’s in-frame. “Or a club, or whatever. That’s fun.”

“Like _you’d_ know,” Nora elbows him.

“I just want Alice to have a good time,” Simon elbows back.

“No worries about that, Si. I’m having the time of my life.”

Alice grins, and it’s real enough that Simon lets it slide. They share goodbyes and then Nora’s taking her back out, spewing on and on about the upcoming talent show.

Simon’s phone buzzes.

 _Jacklyn Worthington_ _wants to be your friend!_ A Facebook notification lights up his screen.

Simon’s Alice-hype immediately dies out as the events of the night before come back to him.

Reluctantly, he hits accept and hates himself for it.

 

 

 

 

**MONDAY**

Cafeteria burgers are disgusting, which is why Simon spends his lunch picking apart his instead of raising the disgusting “food” to his mouth. Leah and Garrett are arguing, but Simon’s not really paying attention.

“Will’s friend,” Leah says, “The one with the black hair and the fringe? Total sketch case.”

“No, it was totally the Asian girl with the _Jimi Hendrix_ t-shirt,” Garrett exclaims, “Her and the preppy-looking girl, one hundred percent. Right, Bram?”

Simon finally looks up and, like everyone else at the table, adverts his eyes to Bram. He’s blushing under the attention as he shrugs his shoulders. “I wasn’t aware the TV went missing.”

“Well, now you know, so please agree it was _Hendrix_ shirt and preppy girl.”

“That’s Abby’s cousin and her girlfriend, dude.” Nick says between bites of his hamburger.

“Garrett,” Leah says simply, “It was Fringe.”

Simon’s still glancing over at Bram, who’s glaring at his phone while stabbing a straw into his juicebox. He has cute hands, Simon realizes, with knobby knuckles and long fingers. Looking at him now, knowing that Simon’s fucked up any chance of hanging out with him for the project, Bram seems more attractive than usual.

“Hey, Simon,” Martin Addison’s voice breaks his concentration. Simon looks up as Martin pokes his shoulder repeatedly. “Can I talk to you?”

“Uhm, yeah, sure.” Simon drops his burger onto his plate and gets up, following Martin out of the cafeteria.

“I really need your opinion on the text I send yesterday, so if you could just check it, that would be great.”

Simon fishes out his phone, takes a millisecond too look, then, “Neither.”

“One or the other, Spier, it’s simple.”

“Blue, I guess,” Simon locks his phone, then when Martin doesn’t move out of the way, he asks, “What?”

“I’m throwing a party this Friday,” He says, voice low. “You’re invited.”

“Thanks?”

“Your whole group is. You know. Invited.”

“Okay.”

“Please show up,” Martin steps in Simon’s way when he tries to escape, “Bring Abby? I’ll owe you!”

“I don’t know, Martin. I’m pretty busy on weekends.”

“C’mon, Simon. Please?” Then, when Simon hesitates again, he sighs, “I don’t _want_ to switch partners back, but I will.”

“Are you _threatening_ me?”

Martin gives him a _look_ that’s so blank, it gives Leah a run for her money. “It’s a _project_ , nothing life changing."

There's a moment when Simon actually  _considers_ switching partners back. But then he thinks about  _Bram_ being with Jackie, and for some reason it pisses him the fuck off. 

“Okay, whatever. I’ll try and get her to go, but I’m not promising anything.”

“Thank you, Simon, _thank you_ ,” Martin grins, happy as ever.

“Whatever, Martin,” Simon grumbles as he passes him to reenter the caf.

Upon arriving at the table, Simon picks up his hamburger and takes a big bite. Predictably, it tastes like trash. Nick looks over to him, “What did Adderall want?”

Simon shrugs, “Nothing. I’ll tell you who stole your TV, though. _Aaron and Spencer_.”

“Shiiiiiit, dude, you’re so right.”


	3. [BRAM] Is He Blackmailing You Into This?

**TUESDAY**

Bram wants to, literally (not metaphorically), smash his head against a wall.

Working with Jackie had been alright. Aggravating at times, but at the end of the day sheets got filled out and progress got made. Less could be said about his partnership with Martin Addison.

Bram is seated on an unmade bed in a horribly dirty room, but the owner doesn’t seem fazed that he’s living in filth. Martin spins on his desk chair, binder open across his lap and pencil tapping against the blank loose-leaf. “You’re friends with Abby Suso, right?”

“She’s with Nick,” Bram replies, looking back down at his work.

“I know, believe me,” Martin tosses his binder onto the desk. A few trinkets fall to the ground, but the clothing covering the floor muffles their landing. “I asked Simon to bring her to my party this weekend, but now I think I should give up on her—”

It’s a day for the history books, truly. Martin Addison has finally come to his senses.

“—And go for Jackie!”

Or not.

This new dream isn’t as farfetched as getting with Abby, but he’s _still_ Martin, and Jackie’s pretty enough to pull reasonably attractive guys. The odds of him swooping her up are very low.

Bram pinches the bridge of his nose, holding in a groan. Teenage drama has never been an interest of his, so all this talk mixed with the stench of Martin’s room—and Martin in _general_ —is enough to have him frustrated.

“What do you think? Normally I’d go to Simon for advice, but he hasn’t been answering my calls.”

Bram just shrugs his shoulders. Then it finally hits him: a win-win situation. “We could ask Mr. Wise if we’re able to combine groups. As long as we do an equal amount of work, it should be fine.”

Martin absolutely lights up at this, bounding out of his seat to slap a hand down on Bram’s shoulder. “You’re a genius! I’ll text Simon!”

He whips his phone out, tossing his pencil. It lands somewhere near a pile of dirty plates and Bram deduces there won’t be anymore work done today. So, he packs up his things as Martin taps away on his screen.

“Are you leaving?” Martin asks as Bram exits his room, then a faint shout of, “You can stay! I have the new _Star Wars_ movie on blue-ray—!”

 

 

 

**WEDNESDAY**

GROUPCHAT: _The Fanatical Foursome_

 **Martin:** welcome fellow homosapiens to your new home

 _read_ ✓ _Simon Spier, Bram Greenfeld, Jacklyn Worthington_

 

 

 

“No, classic superheros get my vote,” Bram tells Garrett as they cross the parking lot, soccer bags slung over their shoulders and hair dripping post-shower water down their necks, “Tobey Maguire all the way, man.”

“Tom Holland gets to team up with the _Avengers_ , though.”

“Still. He—”

“Hey, wait up!” Nick shouts from behind them, causing both boys to glance back. He’s jogging up, a puzzled look upon his face. “Hey, did Simon and Jackie hook up?”

Garrett and Bram share a look, before turning back to Nick with raised eyebrows. The curiosity on Nick’s face looks genuine, as if he believes Simon would tell _them_ instead of his best friend. Then it dawns on Bram that _he’d_ been the last one to see Simon after the party. “I don’t think so.”

“I’d smash,” Garrett says simply, “She’s really hot.”

“Right,” Nick snorts, “because _she’s_ the girl you want to bang.”

He takes off in the direction of Bram’s car, grinning, with Garrett trailing after him demanding to know what he means. Bram gets into the driver’s seat and starts up the civic, pulling out of student parking.

“Why do you think they’ve smashed, anyway?” Garrett asks when they’re half-way home, “Spier has pretty much no game. At all. _Zilch_. He couldn’t nail _that_.”

“Okay, so, I had this dream, right?” Nick begins, “I was in the bathroom putting in my contacts, and I couldn’t figure out which lens went into which eye.”

Garrett glances over to Bram as Bram glances over to Garrett. “I don’t get it,” The blonde finally says, aimed at Nick.

“Well, I think it’s my subconscious trying to tell me something.”

“To put your contacts in your eyes right?”

“No—Garrett, _why_ —nevermind. So I was like, _what_ am I not seeing that's right in front of me?” They pull down Nick’s street, “Then it hit me. Leah said Simon was hanging out with Jackie at the party, then they suddenly switched english partners to be together. They _had_ to have smashed.”

“ _Bro_ ,” Garrett breaths, sounded completely convinced, “Dude, you’re a _psychic_ or some shit.”

Bram watches Nick wiggle his eyebrows at Garrett through the rear-view mirror as they pull into his driveway. “Anyway, don’t tell Simon, he’d freak. You know how he is.”

Garrett snickers, Bram rolls his eyes.

As per usual after practice, they pile out of the civic and enter Nick’s house to play video games. However, as they open the door to the basement, the find their space taken over by a familiar group.

Abby and her crew are over, lounging on the couch as Simon and Leah take the gaming chairs. They’re watching a _YouTube_ video on some haunted mansion, but judging from the iPhones in each teen’s hand, it’s only on for background noise.

“Hey!” Abby smiles, hopping up to greet Nick as the boys get to the bottom of the stairs.

“Garrett Laughlin!” Cassie stands up all of a sudden as Garrett steps out from behind Bram, “Did you seriously think my girlfriend stole Nick’s TV?”

Bram side-eyes Garrett and mouths, _run_. Garrett must catch on, because he opens his mouth as if to speak, before jogging back up the stairs in record time. Cassie bolts after him, Mina calmly following.

“Yo, forgot to ask, did you have a good time at my party?” Nick asks Simon, who’s attempting to set up the ancient DVD player. “I saw you with Jackie, so—”

“No, nope, I know where this is going,” Simon cuts him off, banging the DVD player. “We are going to watch _Clueless_ and laugh at the cheesy moments and _not talk about Jackie_. Okay?”

 _Smash and trash?_ Nick mouths towards Bram. Abby elbows him, face softening in Simon’s direction. “Okay, Si. Just know that we’re here if you want to talk about it, okay?”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Another bang atop the player, then the blue screen of the TV flickers to the DVD homescreen. Bram settles in between Abby and Olivia, who moves in a bit closer to his side.

Simon’s finger hesitates over the _play_ button. “I actually might need to talk to you guys about something?”

“Anything, Si,” Abby smiles warmly. Bram shifts awkwardly, nausea building up as it always does when sentences like that are spoken.

“I, um, might’ve told Martin Addison that we’d go to his party?”

“Oh, god, Simon, why?” Nick groans, throwing his head back. Abby deflates, elbows on her knees as she puts her face in her hands. Olivia just snickers.

“Is this some sort of make-a-wish situation?” Leah asks, raising a brow.

“Ha ha, you’re so funny,” Simon deadpans, “ _No_ , he just asked me to come and I said I’d bring you guys.”

“I hate you,” Nick says, “I really, really, _really_ hate you.”

“Who do we hate?” Cassie asks as she and Mina walk back down the stairs.

“Martin Addison,” Olivia says, “Simon told him we’d all go to his party.”

“Oh no,” Cassie tuts, then pauses before asking in a hushed whisper, “Is he blackmailing you into this, Simon?”

Bram watches as Simon rolls his eyes, finger pressing down on the _play_ button after all. As the movie begins and his friends continue to moan and groan about the party on Friday, Bram can’t find it in himself to feel all that bothered.

 _Yes_ , it’ll be horrible. There is zero chance it won’t be, with Martin planning it and all.

But there is this minuscule chance that Bram will get Simon alone, just to talk when there’s some liquid courage running through his veins. So, he’ll take that, run with it, and thank Martin Addison in the very back of his brain.


	4. [SIMON] 8TEEN

**THURSDAY**

Simon is an amazing friend. Totally. So, as an amazing friend, he decides to Facebook-stalk Leah’s new BFF, Garrett Laughlin.

His Facebook, as could be predicted, is full of memes and videos of either soccer or dogs doing stupid things. Simon clicks on his uploaded photos and sees nothing out of the ordinary. Cartoon profile pictures when he was in middle school, then selfies and photos of the soccer team. There’s a single video. Simon taps it.

“Bram-o!” It’s obviously from the year before, after they’ve won a game and Garrett’s excitement is so loud, the sound in Simon’s earbuds distorts slightly. “How’re you feeling, buddy?”

It pans over to a sweaty Bram (holy shit), who’s grinning brighter than Simon’s ever seen (re: holy shit). He laughs and Simon _melts_ , because it’s so carefree and downright _cute_ —

Someone sits in the empty seat next to Simon before he could even begin to appreciate the video. Blonde hair, peppermint scent, straight posture. Taylor Metternich.

Simon locks his phone and sets it down, pulling out an earbud slowly. “Hi?”

“Just so you know,” She acts as if she’s paying him zero mind, tapping away on her cellphone. “I saw what you did at Nick’s house last weekend.”

“Okay?” He says slowly. Judging from her tone, Taylor’s annoyed, but Simon can’t find a reason why. He did nothing wrong at the party.

“The drugs you stashed in the sugar jar? If _I_ were in your place, I would’ve hidden them somewhere way better.”

Ohh.

“Okay, but why’re you telling me this?” Simon raises an eyebrow, “I don’t care about the weed or where I hid it. It wasn’t even _mine_ and I don’t even think it was Nick’s either.”

Taylor looks up sharply, giving Simon a withering look. “If the police had found it, Nick would’ve gotten into a lot of trouble. I took the drugs, that’s the reason he didn’t get caught. _Me_. You owe _me_.”

Simon sputters out a, “ _What_? No—”

But Taylor isn’t listening. She’s already up out of her seat, crossing the room to help someone with their worksheet.

Simon grits his teeth and wonders why drama seems to be following him lately.

 

 

 

 

Leah’s watching Spider-Man: Homecoming at lunch, so obviously Simon watches it over her shoulder. “He’s gorgeous,” Leah says about Tom Holland, “It’s no wonder Garrett’s so excited for _Infinity War_.”

Simon raises a brow, “He thinks Spider-Man is hot?”

“ _No_ , Bram’s the one who thinks he’s hot. But I can see why now, I guess.”

“Bram thinks Spider-Man is hot?”

Leah rolls her eyes, “You can compliment a guy’s appearance without being gay, Simon.”

“I never said he’s gay—!”

“Hi!” Jackie all but shouts as she bounds up, grinning in Simon’s direction, “You haven’t answered my texts.”

Simon winces, but covers it up quickly, “Sorry, I’ve been busy.”

“Oh! That’s okay,” Her grin morphs into a small, almost shy smile, “I was just wondering if you’re going to Martin’s party tomorrow?”

“ _You’re_ going to Martin’s party?” The surprise is evident in Nick’s voice. He sets his tray down and sits next to Leah.

“Yeah! Free drinks, right?” She’s talking to Nick, but her eyes don’t leave Simon, “You’ll be there?”

“Uhh—”

“We’ll be there, no worries,” Nick nods, kicking Simon’s shin under the table.

Simon holds in a yelp, but smiles and waves as Jackie bounds off, clearly happy with their decision to attend the party.

“That freaking _hurt_.”

“Dude, a hot girl likes you and you play hard to get?”

“Um, I don’t like her?”

“Wh—are you _gay_ , or what?”

Simon narrows his eyes, “Oh, ha ha.”

“My beautiful lunch table,” Garrett takes the seat across from Leah, while Bram takes the seat on Simon’s right, “What. Is. Up?”

“Jackie’s been texting Simon,” Nick tells Garrett.

A grin is sent Simon’s way. Garrett kind of looks like Bieber when someone says the _W_ word. “Nice, Spier!”

“Simon hasn’t been replying.”

The grin disappears and Garrett sighs, dropping his head down before bringing it back up. “ _Dude_.”

Simon kinda wants to die.

Leah (bless her soul) must sense how little Simon wanted to speak on the subject, because she pipes up with a, “Is Spider-Man going to be in the next _Avengers_ movie?”

“Shit, yeah!” Garrett exclaims, as though he’s totally wiped the previous conversation from his mind, “Bram’s not happy about it, though.”

“Why?” Simon finds himself asking, glancing over towards the quiet boy. Bram is already staring at him, a shy smile playing on his lips as he shrugs.

“Tom Holland has nothing on Tobey Maguire.”

“Whatever, Bram.” Garrett waves him off, “Anyway…”

 

 

 

**FRIDAY**

Simon’s car won’t start.

The student parking lot is practically empty as he stands there, hovering over the exposed engine as if he has a single clue as to what’s wrong. To make matters worse, his phone’s battery had called it quits half-way through bio.

Then comes the shitty icing upon the shit cake, when Simon remembers the fact that today was _Friday_ — the day of Martin’s party.

“Need a drive?”

Simon looks up so sharply, he almost hits his head off the raised hood. Cute Bram is standing a few feet away, bag slung over his shoulder and car keys swinging about his finger. He’s smiling a smile that’s just so… so _Bram_. Which isn’t a bad thing.

“Yes! Totally, if you don’t mind,” Simon shuts the hood, grinning, “You’re a lifesaver, holy shit.”

Bram doesn’t say much as they get situated in his car. Then he hands over his phone for the music, which Simon happily takes. He taps the music app and the last song Bram had been listening to pops up.

“Khalid? Seriously?” Simon leans back, tilting his head over.

“My music taste fluctuates,” Bram blushes, “I don’t only listen to Khalid.”

Simon resets the song and taps the play button, allowing _8TEEN_ to kill the silence as they drive. He’s not a big pop fan, but the song is _catchy_. Then he chooses a Teagan and Sara song, which is more his taste.

There’s no time for another, as they’re pulling into the Spier’s driveway. Bram pauses the music as Simon gathers up his backpack and hops out of the civic.

“Thanks,” Simon grins as he goes to close the door, but then pauses and leans back in, “Do you wanna come in?”

It’s almost hilarious, the way Bram looks at Simon after the question. His eyes go wide, as if he’s been asked to do something ludicrous. What _isn’t_ hilarious is the pause, which trails on and on and on until Simon nods slowly. He understands rejection when he sees it.

“Alright, thanks again for the drive--"

“Wait,” Bram stops the car, taking the key from the ignition.

Simon grins.


	5. [BRAM] Just Say 'Fuck It' Like The Rest Of Us, Bram

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> simon's out to his family, BTW. just thought i'd mention that here.

**FRIDAY (CONT.)**

[3:44pm] **Mom:** Where are you?  
[3:46pm] **Bram:** At a friend’s house. There’s a big math test on Monday, and he needs the extra help.  
[3:47pm] **Mom:** I thought you said Garrett excelled in the math department.  
[3:47pm] **Bram:** It’s not Garrett.

Simon’s house is large, like all homes in Shady Creek. Inside is just as Bram could’ve predicted: straight out of the pages of a catalogue. “I’m home!” Simon shouts upon their entrance, toeing off his shoes carelessly.

Bram takes his off as well, neatly pushing them together on the mat. A golden retriever bumbles over, tongue lolling out of it’s mouth as Simon scratches behind it’s ears.

“Hey, Bieber,” Simon coos, “This is Bram.”

Bram slowly crouches down and, gingerly, he pats the dog a welcome. Bieber’s fur is soft, golden tufts gliding between his fingers without a single tangle. Leah was correct in her lunchtime statements about him, the dog _was_ soft.

When he looks up, Simon’s watching them. “He likes you.”

“He’s soft,” Bram compliments, standing up.

As they venture deeper into the house, the smell of something burning continues to grow stronger until they come upon the kitchen.

First impressions are key, Bram is well aware— especially after his mother and Garrett’s first introduction to each other. So, Bram politely holds back the urge to wrinkle his nose in disgust as they walk into the room.

Simon, however, holds nothing back. “Ew, dad, what did you burn?”

Mr. Spier, clad in an apron and oven mitts, takes a casserole out of the oven. The dish is very overcooked, charred everywhere the eye could see. In short, it does not look appealing. “We can just scrape off—” He motions about the top of the dinner, “I’m sure it’s fine underneath.”

“Yeah, okay,” Simon wrinkles his nose.

His father finally turns for the first time and takes notice of Bram. “Jack Spier,” He introduces himself, shucking a mitt to offer a hand.

“Bram Greenfeld,” He smiles politely, gripping the man’s hand in a firm shake. _First impressions_.

“Nice grip,” It almost seems as if the man is sizing Bram up for a fight, “What are your inten—”

“Nope,” Simon interrupts, “No, _nope_ , Dad, this isn’t one of those meetings.”

Bram sends him a confused look, while Mr. Spier’s demeanor takes a one-eighty. “Oh,” He’s untying his apron, “ _Oh_ , you’re _English Group Bram_ ,” He drapes the fabric across one of the chairs at the kitchen island. “A plus plus _plus_ Bram. Leah’s Boyfriend—”

“They’re not dating,” Simon chimes in, inspecting the failed casserole.

“Leah’s Not-Boyfriend’s Best Friend  _Bram_.”

Keeping the smile on his lips is difficult, as Bram would just like to scream. _English Group Bram_ is what Simon’s called him at home. _A+++ Bram_. _Leah’s Boyfriend’s Best Friend Bram_.

“Can you go pick Nora up from practice?” Mr. Spier asks.

“Oh, yeah, about that,” Simon sucks in a breath through his teeth, cringing in his father’s direction, “My car’s sitting in the student parking lot. It’s pretty dead.”

“ _She_. A vehicle is always— _anyway_ ,” Mr. Spier shakes his head, an eyebrow raised, “How’d you manage to break her? Have too much fun in—”

“I don’t even want to know where you’re going with that,” Simon interrupts him and there’s that disgusted-nose-wrinkle Bram loves so much.

“I’ll be back in about twenty minutes,” Mr. Spier narrows his eyes, pointing from boy to boy as he says, “No funny business.”

“I don’t know how to have fun,” Simon deadpans. Bram bites his bottom lip to keep a chuckle at bay.

“I’m serious, Si, I’m trusting you—“

“Yeah, yeah, crystal clear, Dad,” Simon’s blushing a light pink, which Bram believes is adorable. He guides his father out of the kitchen and towards the door, saying, “Nora’s waiting, you’re late. Bye—no, the door’s _this way_. Goodbye— _goodbye, dad!_ Goodbye.”

Bram grips the edge of the island, leaning back against the wood. Simon reappears moments later, only the tail-end of his blush still visible in the form of a slight red hue. He’s so beautiful. Bram just wants to _touch_ —

“Sorry, he’s—” Simon pauses, as though he’s searching his brain for a word to adequately describe his father, “Yeah. He’s just _something_.”

“He was nice.”

That brings a snort from Simon. “You haven’t heard his jokes yet,” He grins, “You would’ve ran for sure. I wonder what girl name he’d give you. Nothing really goes with _Bram_.” Simon waves him off as Bram sends him a puzzled look. “You’ll understand when it happens. _Anyway_ ,” He winces, “I am _not_ eating that lump of ash he calls casserole.”

There's a moment where Bram almost attempts to convince Simon that the casserole could possibly be good, but he can’t lie. Simon must take his silence as agreement, as he pulls a pan out from one of the cupboards. “If he asks, we stopped to get food on our way here.”

Bram nods.

Watching Simon bound about the kitchen, gathering the items needed to make grilled cheese sends Bram’s mind spiralling. He imagines ten years in the future, where they’re happily married, both with excellent jobs and a huge house like this one.

Only, in this dream, he presses Simon into the counter and no food actually gets made.

“So, _Khalid_ , huh?” Simon teases, pulling Bram from his thoughts.

There’s a blush on Bram’s cheeks, now, he can feel it spreading up his neck. “My music taste is fluent. I don’t really listen to anything specific.”

“Seriously? I listen to, like, _four_ artists and that’s it.” He drops shredded cheese atop the bread he’s laid out on the counter, “Have you heard of _Elliott Smith_?”

Bram hasn’t even heard of the artist. Simon’s jaw drops in an overreaction when he doesn’t receive a reply, deducing the answer. “ _Wow_ , you need to be musically educated. We’re totally going upstairs to listen to _XO_ after this.”

Simon then slides across the tiled floor to face a rack holding a plethora of seasonings, all held in identical little jars, obviously DIY’d. “Do you want any of this? We have, uh. Let’s see—” He twirls one of the jars to read what’s written on the tag, “Caribbean Jerk Barbeque. I think there’s some kind of middle school-esque joke to be made there.”

Bram grins and Simon mirrors the expression, before sliding the little jar across the countertop.

“Chili?”

“Is that even a question, Simon?”

“Right, sorry, I forgot you’re a grilled cheese-seasoning connoisseur. My bad.” Then, “Rosemary?”

Bram nods.

“Great touch,” Simon slides both jars over and they clink against the first, “Gordan Ramsay is shaking in his boots. Cinnamon?”

“Of course.”

“ _Of course_ , he says,” Simon turns, “You could just say _fuck it_ like the rest of us, Bram. Come on, say it with me: _fuck it, Simon, let’s add cinnamon. Our grilled cheeses are going to taste like shit, anyway_.”

Bram snorts, face warming, “I'm not saying that.”

Simon shrugs, “I never expected you to, goodie-goodie,” He walks back over to his station and begins sprinkling their food with the seasonings, “I meant what I said, though. These are going to taste like _traaash_.”

While he’s distracted by seasoning, Bram pulls out his phone.

 

[4:46pm] **Garrett:** AYO what time shld we be at martin’s?  
[4:53pm] **Garrett:** hello?  
[5:08pm] **Garrett:** just went to ur house and ur mom said ur ‘at a friend’s house’  
[5:08pm] **Garrett:** last time i checked i was ur only friend. WYA?

 

“What time is Martin’s party?” Bram asks.

“Oh, uh,” Simon seems to take a moment to think, “He cancelled. Said it was too much work, or something. It’s _Martin_ , you know? I don’t think the party was ever going to actually happen.”

 

[5:01pm] **Bram:** Simon claims Martin cancelled it earlier today. Sorry, man.  
[5:02pm] **Garrett:** so ur wit simon? Wtf

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

They sit in Simon’s room on the bed, _Bottle Up and Explode!_ from _Elliott Smith_ ’s _XO_ album playing softly in the background as the boys take the first bites of their grilled cheeses.

As predicted, the combined spices create a disgusting taste that gets Bram’s stomach churning. He quickly swallows the bite he took to get the taste out of his mouth, nearly gagging in the process. Simon almost chokes at Bram’s reaction, covering his mouth to laugh. He doesn’t seem too fazed at the taste.

“Something isn’t right in there,” Bram winces.

“Yeah,” Simon laughs, “It’s freaking _horrible_ , what were we thinking?”

Bram's phone buzzes.

 

[5:26pm] **Garrett:** whatever. simon can steal my best friend cuz im stealing his  
[5:26pm] **Garrett:** leah n i r gonna play ARK on her xbox. b jealous

 

“Garrett and Leah are possibly on a date.”

The sentence spews from his lips like word-vomit. Simon’s eyes grow wide, hand frozen where he’d been raising his grilled cheese, about to take another bite. “What?” He all but shouts, “She never told me this! What the heck?”

Bram blushes, picking at the crust of his sandwich. “I’m just speculating.”

“ _Still!_ ” Simon seems almost dazed, tossing his dinner onto the plate, “I can’t believe this. I knew they hung out a lot together at Nick's house, but there is _no freaking way_ she’d go on a date with _Garrett the Semi-Douche_.”

“He’s not a… _douche_.”

“No, I know. That’s _her_ nickname for him. _Garrett the Semi-Douche_.”

“They may not be on a date, they’re just playing video games.”

“Oh my _god_ ,” Simon shakes his head, “They're _alone._  It’s totally a date. Or, what they're _doing_ is totally Leah’s version of a perfect date.”

“Leah’s version?” Bram can’t help but ask.

“Yeah, like, her version of a date is laid back. Chill. Nick’s a total romantic, so his version of a date is a candlelit dinner at some fancy restaurant.”

 _What about yours?_ Bram wants to ask, _What’s_ your _version of a date, Simon?_

Instead, he stays quiet and listens to Simon rant about their best friends.

 

 

 

 

Bram ends up leaving after the gossip-talk subsides, as Simon doesn't want Bram meeting his mother.

“Sorry,” Simon apologizes has Bram opens his car door, “If you don’t leave now, you’ll meet my mom, and she’s… _that_ kind of mom. She spent, like, two hours showing Garrett my baby pictures one time.”

This is news to Bram.

“Garrett’s been here?”

“Oh, yeah, I mean,” Simon shrugs, “He and Leah are attached at the hip. Everytime I invite her over, he comes, too. I haven’t been able to hang out with her alone in, like, two weeks. They're _always_ together.”

Before the texts earlier that afternoon, Garrett's never mentioned hanging out with Leah at all. Bram feels his stomach flip at the thought of his best friend keeping secrets.

“Anyway,” Simon scuffs the toe of his shoe against the pavement, pulling Bram from his thoughts before they could spiral, “It was cool to hang out with you, even though you chose the worst spices ever.”

“It’s an acquired taste,” Bram shrugs.

“Of course, how foolish of me to think otherwise,” Simon huffs out a laugh, looking down for a moment before glancing back up, face softer than Bram’s seen all afternoon. “It’s weird, you know? We’ve been sitting at the same table for, like, three weeks now and have never hung out.”

“Until now.”

“Until now,” Simon echoes.

There’s this little silence after that, where Bram gets into and starts his car. Simon takes a step back, “I’ll see you tomorrow at school?”

Bram smiles, amused, “Today is Friday, Simon.”

“Oh, shit, right, sorry,” Simon blushes, “I’ll see you Monday.”

He’s so cute. Bram's chest is about to combust.


	6. [SIMON] Take Responsibility

**FRIDAY (CONT.)**

**[** **GROUPCHAT:** _Stop Changing The GC Name Leah &Garrett – Abby_ **]**  
_Garrett renamed the group: Disappointed But Not Surprised_

**[GROUPCHAT:**   _Disappointed But Not Surprised_ **]**  
**Nick:** Simon **  
Nick:** We get that you don’t like parties  
**Nick:** But it’s a dick move to tell Jackie that you’d go, then ditch  
**Simon:** You’re there?  
**Nick:** Yeah  
**Nick:** No thanks to you

 

 

 

 

 

**SATURDAY**

Simon wakes up to:

 

[9:33pm] **English Partner J:** hii, simon. are you here yet?  
[10:46pm] **English Partner J:** just spoke to nick. he said you aren’t coming. im sure you have a good reason! just please don’t get my hopes up next time!!  
[11:04pm] **English Partner J:** is it so hard to aNswer? you don’t haev to be such an asshole  
[11:22pm] **English Partner J:** sorry sorry. i didnt mean to call you an asshole. im sure yo u had a reason  
[12:12am] **English Partner J:** ASSHOLE!!!!!!!

 

And proceeds to go back to sleep.

 

 

 

 

**MONDAY**

It’s officially October, and Simon is panicking just a little bit.

He hasn’t finished his history report or studied for a bio test that's happening next period. Not to mention they’re supposed to pass in their outline for the project in English, which his group hasn’t even _begun_ yet—

“’Sup, traitor?” Nick greets.

He leans up against the row of lockers next to Simon’s, grinning as if it’s any other morning. As if Simon didn’t lie about the party over the weekend just to spend more time with a cute boy.

“Before you start complaining-- I get it. I’m lame, whatever,” Simon raises his backpack from the floor and shoves it at Nick’s chest, “Hold this.”

He does. “Jackie was really upset, dude.”

Simon roots about his locker, looking for the right books. “I know.”

“It’s like— _I_ can’t throw another party to make it up to her.”

“I know.”

Nick stays silent after that, holding the backpack patiently as Simon pulls out his bio and chem textbooks. He’s still silent as Simon zips up the bag and slings it over his shoulder, thumb hooked under the strap.

After Nick’s lips begin to twitch upward, it only takes a moment for Simon to realize what he’s trying to say. “No. _No_ , Nick.”

His best friend raises his hands, grinning. “I already talked to Nora. Your mom’s birthday is on Saturday, so your parents are staying the night in, like, some five-star hotel in Atlanta.” He leans foreword slightly, obviously proud of himself, “ _You’re welcome_.” The bell rings, signalling the beginning of the day. “Saturday at six, pregame at yours.”

“But—”

“Jackie was really upset, Simon.” Nick begins to walk backwards toward his first class, “So take responsibility, dude!” He turns back normally, “Make it right!”

Simon slams his locker door closed in defeat, leaning up against the metal facing the opposite way Nick went. He stares down the row of lockers as he comes up with ways to get back at Nora for orchestrating this. Of all people, _Nora_.

Up ahead, Bram shoves Garrett into the lockers in a move that’s good-natured and in return Garrett wraps an arm around Bram’s neck. They continue down the hall, oblivious to the nearby girls who giggle and stare.

That’s when Simon notices Jackie, who’s group of friends is absent this morning. She’s digging about in her locker, glaring at her books. Simon figures now isn’t really a good time to apologize, but decides that stewing is worse than doing.

“Hi,” He leans up against the lockers, similar to the way Nick had with him, “So, there’s this girl I know, and I totally made her mad. Full disclosure, I was a total ass, so she has a legit reason to be angry.”

Jackie is still avoiding eye contact, but the crease between her eyebrows is gone. Simon determines he’s on the right track here, so he continues. “So, like, do you think I should shoot myself, or…?”

She slowly closes her locker, rolling her eyes as she huffs out a laugh. “You’re such a _jerk_ , Simon,” Jackie says, but there’s amusement laced through her words, zero hostility.

It’s a win in Simon’s books.

 

 

 

 

 

**TUESDAY**

Simon’s car is still getting fixed, so when Nick offers him a drive home, he figures it would be an amazing alternative to one of Nora’s weird friends. What he overlooks in his mind, however, is the fact that Abby has cheer afterschool.

Sitting up on the bleachers, both boys are chilly. With hands dug into his pockets, Simon can’t imagine how cold the girls are right now, clad in short-shorts and thin jackets as they go through drills out on the turf. Cassie, Olivia and Abby are on fire down there and Simon’s watching them, but Nick’s _watching_ them.

Simon checks his phone for the time and is pleasantly surprised when he realizes they only have to sit through ten more minutes of this.

“Where’s Molly?” He asks, glancing about the bleachers for their friend. She usually shows up around this time to get a drive home from Cassie, but today she’s nowhere to be seen.

“Probably out with her new boyfriend,” Nick shrugs.

“Boyfriend?”

“Reid.”

“ _Star Wars_ Reid?”

“No, _Lord of the Rings_ Reid.”

“Wha— _history class Reid_?” Simon cannot believe this. He’s grinning so hard his cheeks begin to ache, “Since _when_?”

“Weeks, Simon,” Nick rolls his eyes, “What happened to, ‘ _I’m just destined to be nosy’?_ ”

“Whatever, Nick. Let me be happy for Molly.”

“Speaking of Molly, or—” Nick glances around, checking to see if anyone’s lingering. _As if_ anyone else was on the bleachers, watching the cheerleaders when it’s this cold, “Not molly, just drugs in general. Do you have my weed?”

Simon doesn’t reply. Or, Nick’s already talking before Simon has a chance _to_ reply. “Leah didn’t yell at me on Saturday and Will didn’t have the bag, neither did Jackie.”

“I have it,” Simon says slowly and immediately regrets admitting it, “Or, I can _get it back_.”

Nick gives him a weird look, “Get it—uhh, Simon? What do you mean _get it back_?”

The girls are walking over, which is most likely the reason Nick doesn’t fire a billion questions at Simon. “Just… get it for the pregame, okay? And don’t tell Leah, or Abby, or _anyone_.”

Abby joins them, waving goodbye to the other girls. “What’s up?” She grins, readjusting her bag.

“Molly and Reid,” Simon pastes on a grin, “Since _when_?”

 

 

 

 

**WEDNESDAY**

Simon enters his bio classroom and walks straight past his usual desk, instead taking a seat next to Taylor. She’s applying a fresh coat of lipstick, one hand balancing her compact mirror.

“I want ten percent of the marijuana,” Taylor orders, even though Simon hasn’t said a word yet, “And a date with your blond friend.”

“ _Garrett_?” He exclaims, before lowering his voice when the teacher glares, “I don’t know—”

“You don’t strike me as someone who knows a dealer, Simon.”

Simon taps his fingers on the tabletop, leg jiggling under the table.

It’s a difficult decision here, because he assumes Leah likes Garrett in some sort of weird, _Leah_ way, so he doesn't want to ruin that for her.

Then again, people talk about crushes with their best friends. That’s just the way it works and hey— neither Garrett nor Leah have been telling Simon and Bram anything, so maybe they’re happy just being friends?

At least, that’s what Simon tells himself as he says, “Fine, sure, whatever.”


	7. [SIMON] Amazing Observation, Simon

**SATURDAY**

The pregame is set up by Nick while Nora cracks open some glow-in-the-dark body paint. She drags her thumbs beneath Simon’s eyes, giving him bright pink battle paint stripes. He’ll blend in perfectly at the party, with it’s _neon_ theme.

Around seven, people started to arrive. What Nick had failed to mention is just how many people he’d invited. The pregame was practically a party in itself, with all the soccer guys and their girlfriends, along with Abby’s squad plus Reid, Will and Mina. Everyone’s in their neon and glow-in-the-dark paint, ready for the party later that night.

Simon admits it _would_ be cool, you know, if the pregame wasn’t happening in _his_ house.

He sits on the stairs, watching more and more people enter. Leah’s sitting next to him, nursing a coke. She’s wearing all black, going against the theme. It’s such a Leah thing to do. Simon loves her for it.

They’re not really speaking, aside from the occasional comment about someone who walks in. Down in the livingroom, someone turns on a _Britney Spears_ song and there’s a collective cheer as a bunch of girls begin dancing.

Simon notices Creekwood's resident out gay kid in the crowd with them, laughing along to the music and dancing in the same manor as the girls. He cringes. The kid is just _asking_ to be teased.

“Does he have to be so gay?” Simon asks, “He’s just asking to get beat up. Like, this is _Atlanta_ , not Los Angeles. We’re not _that_ progressive.”

Leah’s quiet for a long moment, picking at the tab of her coke can. Her fingertips are covered in neon yellow paint. “So, you’re shit-talking gay people now?”

“What? _No_ ,” He turns his body toward her, “I’m just saying he’s making it really obvious.”

“Yeah, but you’re just pointing out that he’s _gay_ ,” She stands up, then deadpans: “Amazing observation, Simon, really.”

“Leah—”

“I’m going to find Molly. Have fun making fun of gay people, or whatever.”

Then she’s leaving, stomping down the stairs.

This night has barely started, and Simon already wants it to be over.

 

 

 

 

It’s only a matter of minutes before Garrett’s hopping up the stairs two at a time, grinning brightly. “Spier! Just the man I was looking for!”

All at once, Simon’s reminded of the _Taylor_ thing and how much he really, really, _really_ doesn’t want to deal with this right now.

“You throw a kickass pregame, bro,” He sits where Leah had just been, tapping his fingers against his beer can, leg jiggling. There are yellow cat whiskers drawn on his cheeks, all smudged as if he was moving while they were being applied.

“Thanks,” Simon says, “It was all Nick, though. Zero credit to me.”

“Well, it’s your house, so…” He takes a big swig of his beer, can crinkling as he squeezes it.

Simon watches with a raised brow. “You okay?”

“Yeah, _yeah_.”

“…So, no offence, but what do you want?”

Garrett’s practically vibrating. “I need your help.”

“You need my help.” Simon echoes.

“Yeah, I,” He seems to be struggling to get the words out, “I need your help.”

“Okay.”

“’Cause you’re Burke’s best friend—”

Oh _no_.

“—So, can you give me some tips on how to ask her out? We’ve hung out tons, but I’ve never grew the balls to _actually_ ask her out. On a date. Officially.”

“Garrett…” Simon mentally kicks himself for doing this. Destroying a could-be relationship over a bag of _weed_ , “I don’t think Leah thinks of you, um, _like that_. She’s never mentioned you.”

There’s a few moments after the words leave his lips where Garrett just stares at him, but then he’s slowly raising up. He lets out a bark of laughter, but it’s almost completely humorless. “Okay, that’s— _alright_.”

“I’m sorry—”

“No, it’s— _chill_ , Spier. Thanks for the heads up, bro. I totally would’ve embarrassed myself by asking her out.”

The smile he sends Simon is only slightly heartbreaking.


	8. [BRAM] Two-Way Street

**SATURDAY (CONT.)**

Contrary to the popular belief of Creekwood’s soccer team, Bram doesn’t dislike parties. Even _he_ finds it fun to get out once in a while and spend time with his friends in an environment that isn’t school.

(The free drinks are nice, too.)

However, this pregame feels weird. Possibly because Bram is standing in the same place as he had been only a week before: against the kitchen island in the Spier house. Then, it was quiet-- just him and Simon against the world. Now, it’s loud and the kitchen is packed with the entire soccer team, all crowding around and nursing beer.

Garrett slides up next to Bram, cracking open a new can, “I need to get completely _hammered_ tonight.”

 _Why?_  He wants to ask, but doesn’t. Bram's not one to pry.

“Jackie!” Nick suddenly shouts over the various conversations, shoving between Garrett and Bram as he makes his way towards the front door.

Although Bram’s attention had only been averted for a short period of time, when he glances back over, Garrett’s chugged his beer and is shouting for someone to get him another.

He catches Bram’s eye and grins.

 

 

 

 

Later, post-pregame and about an hour into the party, Bram spots Simon.

He’s leaning up against a wall, head bowed down as he speaks to Jackie.

Bram attempts to convince himself they’re so close because Simon wouldn’t be able to hear a word she’s saying otherwise, thanks to the loud music. It’s most likely wishful thinking. Jackie’s beautiful and Simon’s only human.

A straight human. Bram wants to die.

Someone sits next to him on the sofa and offers a new can of beer, condensation dripping down her fingers. “You look like you need this,” She grins.

Bram accepts it with a quiet _thank you_ and she takes the opportunity to start up a conversation. But he isn’t listening, already focused back on the two across the room. However, when Simon leans in closer and Jackie laughs, Bram adverts his eyes and decides to humor the girl beside him.

“Sorry, it’s loud in here,” He cracks open the beer can and takes a sip.

“No biggie. I was just complaining about my bra,” She wraps her fingers around Bram’s free hand, tugging it towards herself. “The underwire here,” She places his hand on the side of her breast, “It’s pinching me under my arm. _Ugh_ , it’ll be like that until I can get home and take it off.”

Once again, Bram flicks his eyes across the room. Jackie touches Simon’s wrist, grinning.

Bra-Girl is still talking, “You should be glad you’re not a girl—"

Bram kisses her.

The act is selfish. He’s just jealous of the couple across the room and needs a distraction.

The girl raises her hand, cupping Bram’s jaw as she crawls upon his lap. The kiss deepens and she’s panting into his mouth, clearly enthusiastic.

Kissing proves to be a fruitless attempt at staunching the urge to look at Simon. Bram pulls away for a second and sneaks a glance, but they’re still across the room talking, paying no mind to the rest of the party.

The girl takes a sip of her drink before pulling Bram in again, this time tasting of screwdriver. She grips his free hand and raises it up to her tit once again, blissfully unaware it has the opposite effect of what she wants—

“Hey,” Simon falls onto the couch next to them, breaking up the kiss, “If you could _not_ feel each other up in the middle of a party, that would be great.”

“Simon, Simon, have some fun!” The girl exclaims as she shifts on Bram’s lap to make herself comfortable and nods in the direction of Jackson, one of the only openly gay teens at the party, “Look at him! Dancing and having the time of his life. Why can’t _you_ be like that, Simon, and leave us alone?”

“Jackson’s gay,” Bram says, watches Simon’s reaction. There is none.

The girl on his lap rolls her eyes, “Of _course_ he’s gay, look at how much fun he’s having. Gay people _always_ have fun.”

Bram fidgets underneath her, uncomfortable.

“God, that is _such_ a superficial generalization,” Simon snorts unkindly, looking annoyed.

The girl isn’t up for a fight, instead huffs as she stands up. “Who cares? I wasn’t negative, so what’s it matter?” She grabs Bram’s hand, tugging him up, “Let’s just leave this grump alone and dance.”

 

 

 

 

The girl presses up against Bram’s front, grabbing his hands and placing them on her hips as they move to the music.

Vaguely, back before Bram accepted what he was, he’d thought about faking through the rest of his life. Get married to a woman, have kids, grow old.

Dancing with this girl and _trying_ to like it (without success) crushes that ex-dream in milliseconds. Faking his way through life would be horrid.

She wraps her arms around his neck, tugging him down the slightest bit. “You’re really hot,” She groans, leaning up to kiss him.

Bram’s eyes flutter shut out of instinct, but only for a moment. He glances over towards the couch, and brown eyes lock with grey for only a moment before Simon's looking away.

The girl trails her lips down to Bram’s neck and he’s thankful, as he’s too stunned to kiss properly. His drunken brain can’t seem to wrap around the fact that Simon had been _watching them._ What did that mean?

Slowly, Simon looks over again and this time he doesn’t break the eye contact. Bram feels as though he’s on fire.

Had he been sober, Bram would’ve adverted his eyes immediately and likely would’ve bolted soon after. But he’s not sober. The alcohol in his system gives him enough courage to pull away from the girl and take a small step towards the couch where Simon’s staring at him, eyes wide now, as if he’d never expected Bram to come closer—

Olivia blocks Bram’s path, facing Simon. “Taylor Metternich wants to talk to you.”

Much to Bram’s disappointment, Simon takes off. Wanting to wallow in his own self-pity, Bram makes a move to fall onto the couch, but Olivia catches him by the bicep. Her eyes are shining with something akin to worry. “Garrett is really drunk.”

“It’s a—” _Party_ , is what Bram had been about to say, but just outside the patio doors, he spots Garrett doing a keg stand. He sends Olivia a small smile in leu of a thanks, before heading towards the door.

They’re lowering Garrett as Bram steps outside, all the football boys cheering as they call out a new record. Hollering with them is Garrett, who can barely stand up on his own, stumbling over to Bram, grinning.

“Fifty-seven seconds, Bram-o,” His words are horribly slurred as he laughs, slinging an arm around Bram’s shoulders.

“Let’s go home,” Bram says quietly, wrapping an arm around his best friend’s waist as he makes an attempt for the door.

“No, no, no,” Garrett fights against him, “ _No_ , I’m not nearly drunk enough, man.”

He slips from Bram’s grip, stumbling back.

“Garrett—” He tries, but shuts up as soon as he sees his friend’s face.

“Burke doesn’t like me,” Garrett grabs a random red solo sup from the closest patio table, “My life is _shit_ and she was so nice about it, bro. Always,” He doesn’t fight Bram as he takes the cup away, “She was just so nice ‘n shit. I thought she’d like me.”

Bram chuckles, remembering his and Simon's _date_  conversation the week before. “ _She likes you_ , man.”

Garrett shakes his head, but this time allows Bram to lead them through the patio doors. “I have it on good in-in-in— _shit_ what is the word? You’re good with words, or some shit. Always getting amazing grades. I get _shit_ grades, I’m never good enough, fuck.”

“You’re in AP english,” Bram reminds him, just as he so often reminds his mother.

“I don’t know how,” Garrett grumbles as they pass through the crowd of people. “I have no idea what we talk about— _what it all means_. Marxism? Feminism? Mr. Wise talks about it and talks about it and, man, dude, I have no idea what he means. The entire class knows, but _I don’t_.”

Bram ushers them through the front door and Garrett sits on the front steps, putting his head between his legs. He looks miserable. “I had this one _good_ thing, but I—” He sits up again, suddenly angry, “Tons of girls like me. Why doesn’t _she_?”

“She _does_.”

“She _doesn’t_.” Garrett’s voice cracks as he leans back, rubbing his eyes. “I can’t go home, I’m too drunk and my dad’ll yell at me.”

Bram’s not sure, but there may be tears now. He’s never seen Garrett like this. “You can come to my house,” He says.

“No-- your mom hates me,” Garrett lolls his head towards Bram and he's not crying, but his eyes are red. “The other night, when we were supposed to go to Adderall’s party, she told me to stop hanging around you. Called me a _hoodlum_. Like, bro, I live on _Roswell Road_ , how much of a hoodlum can I be?”

Bram wonders why Garrett’s waited so long to bring that up. _If_ he would’ve brought it up sober.

“Mom won’t be home, she’s working late,” Bram says softly, biting back the anger directed towards his mother, “Let’s go.”

“I don’t—” Garrett chokes on a sob, I—”

“Woah, is he okay?” Simon asks, pausing half-way through the door. Bram winces in his direction for the bad timing, while Garrett covers his face with his hands.

“He’s had too much to drink,” Bram says quietly.

Simon steps closer, slowly closing the door. “Do you need a drive? I swear I haven’t drank, cross my heart.”

Bram nods. Simon sends him a quick smile, then, “Garrett, do you need help up?”

He does, but grabs Bram’s hand, ignoring Simon’s although it’s outstretched toward him. “I’m only gonna be salty at you for a little while, alright, Spier?” Garrett slurs, “You understand, huh, bro?”

“Yeah,” Simon’s nearly whispering his voice is so quiet. Bram furrows his brows at the interaction, confused.

 

 

 

 

Garrett throws up as soon as they get to Bram’s house, right in the bushes out front. He apologizes ten times over, but Bram tells him not to worry about it and gives him a glass of water.

Simon stays downstairs as the other two get settled in the bedroom. Bram lingers after Garrett’s pulled the blankets up to his shoulders.

“Why didn’t you tell me about Leah?” He asks, sitting at the end of the bed.

Garrett’s back is to him, but the rise and fall of his sigh is visible. “I’m not good at sharing shit,” He shrugs, “I always think I sound girly, or cringey, or… I don’t know. Needy? Clingy?”

There’s a hole in Bram’s jeans on the seam, just below his knee. He pulls at a small string hanging from it as he sifts through Garrett’s reasons, carefully choosing one. “You wouldn’t sound needy.”

Garrett’s silent for a moment, then rolls over, “Two-way street. You don’t talk to me about anything, either.”

Bram shrugs his shoulders, eyes flicking towards the door before casting down. “I’ve had a lot on my mind the past couple months,” He says finally, swallowing thickly. It felt as if there was something lodged in his throat, he was so nervous.

He could say those two words right now and make this a _Coming Out Thing._ It’s a perfect time, all things considered. Or… maybe it’s not. Is there ever a perfect time? Bram isn't convinced there is.

His stomach swirls and he ponders for a moment if he’s going to _throw up_ —

“Hey,” Garrett says quickly, sitting up, “Bro, dude, don’t feel like you gotta share anything _right_ _now_ just ‘cause I drama-vom’d.”

Bram huffs.

“But,” He flicks Bram’s leg with his finger, “You can tell me shit, okay? Whenever you want. And I’ll tell you my shit. We’ll work on this girly-ass _sharing_ issue we have, alright?”

Bram nods, and Garrett falls back onto his pillow. “God, I’m drunk as hell.”


	9. [SIMON] Are You Sure?

**SATURDAY (CONT.)**

Simon’s just about to leave when Bram stumbles down the stairs.

He’s not as drunk as Garrett, but he was on his way there—it’s obvious in the way he nearly trips over his own feet on the last step. Simon moves to grab him, but Bram raises a hand and he freezes.

There’s this awkward silence that’s settled upon them and Simon really wishes it would go away.

It’s because of the thing that happened at the party. _The Thing_ , aka Simon absentmindedly watching Bram make out with Amy Everett. _Nick’s eighth grade crush_ , Amy Everett. Simon didn’t even _want_ to watch them kiss, it just made him feel so weird that he couldn’t look away.

“How’s Garrett?” Simon asks to get out of his own head, which doesn’t prove to work, because now he’s stuck thinking about how much he’s screwed Leah and Garrett’s friendship up. Or future relationship. Simon doesn’t know which, Leah hasn’t really talked about Garrett much.

Bram shrugs his shoulders, “Time will pass and he’ll get over it.”

Simon lets out a short exhale, relieved, “Okay, good.”

“In the meantime, I think a change of lunch tables will be good,” Bram smiles, all apologetic. Then, before Simon could voice his opinion on the matter: “It’ll be temporary. I’m sure we’ll be back once Garrett figures everything out.”

Bram doesn’t say anymore on the matter and, ah, there’s that silence. That awkward, _awkward_ silence.

He looks up and locks eyes with Bram, who’s just staring and looking pensive, as if he’s lost in some thought. Simon motions towards the door, “I’m just gonna—”

“Why were you watching?” Bram asks, “At the party.”

Simon’s cheeks burn, and he must be as red as they come. “ _Simon_ means to hear, and _Spier_ means to see, so I’m just destined to be nosy.”

He’s said it so many times over the years, the sentence is practically burned into his brain. But this time he stumbles over the words because Bram, who had previously been leaning up against the wall, now steps into Simon’s space. And because Simon’s a total moron who apparently doesn’t know how to _function_ , he lets Bram, staring up with wide eyes.

Bram smells a little like dove soap and a lot like beer. He’s so close now.

“Are you sure, Simon?” There he goes, saying _Simon_ as if it was something worth being careful over.

His voice makes Simon feel light. He swallows and when his lips part slightly, Bram’s eyes flick down at the movement. _Holy shit. Holy shit, holy shit, holy shitttt._

“Yeah,” Simon breaths quietly, only slightly panicking at their close proximity, “Yes! Totally. I was probably just, you know, spaced out or something.”

Bram looks away and steps back, nodding as he leans back against the wall. He looks tired now, so incredibly tired.

“So, I’ll see you tomorrow at school?” Simon asks, taking a step backwards.

With a small, tight smile, Bram says, “Tomorrow is Sunday, man.”

“Oh,” He opens the door, “Yeah, I guess it is. Shit. Okay, well… see you Monday?”

“Maybe,” Bram says.

 

 

 

 

As Simon’s turning off Roswell Road, it catches him off guard how much he had _wanted_ Bram to kiss him.

It’s—okay, Simon’s not going to overreact about this. It’s _not_ a halting realization. He’s known since that day in the caf that he was objectively attracted to Bram. Then, after they hung out alone, Simon knew there was something there. Something _just_ out of reach, because Simon has a rule against falling for straight boys. Or could be straight boys.

But maybe Bram’s not straight after all, because it seemed like he was just about to kiss Simon. He was drunk, sure, but _Bram had tried to kiss him_ … or something. What had he been trying to do?

Pulling into his driveway, Simon groans and thumps his forehead against the steering wheel.

 

 

 

 

**MONDAY**

Bram and Garrett don’t sit at the table at lunch.

It’s not surprising, or, it _shouldn’t_ be surprising, but Simon still raises his eyebrows when he sees the boys sitting over at Will and Max’s table across the caf. Bram’s smiling politely at the other three, while Garrett laughs whole-heartedly, high-fiving Will while Max flips them off.

Bram catches Simon staring. _What?_ He mouths.

“Does this have anything to do with him ignoring my calls?”

Leah drops her tray down onto the table, stealing Simon’s attention. He turns towards her, “You talk to Bram?”

“… _Garrett_ …” She says slowly, as if Simon’s braindead. He legit might be. Or, _had been_ ever since his realization the night before. All that’s been going through his head all day is _Bram, Bram, Bram_. It’s like a crush honeymoon phase. “Do you know why they’re sitting over there?”

“Oh,” Simon shrugs, “I don’t know.”

 

 

 

 

The scripts for the play in drama club come in, which means they all sit on the floor of the auditorium and go through them. Cal Price finds a spot near Simon and flashes a smile, giving him a slight wave with a blueish-green colored pencil between his fingers. Unlike last year, Simon’s stomach doesn’t erupt into butterflies.

Probably because Cal’s dating his little sister. But also because a new stupidly cute boy has been on Simon’s mind since Saturday.

Even thinking about Bram indirectly like that makes Simon’s chest begin to feel as if it’s falling in on itself. Simon needs someone to rant to,  _stat_ , because this is falling into crush territory.

All because of one stupid almost-kiss. Fuck.

 

 

 

 

 

“Hey,” Leah greets Simon, who’s sitting cross-legged on the library floor chewing the nail on his thumb, avoiding thoughts on his c-word on b-word. They’re in the last row, where nothing but the old encyclopedias sit. “I got your _SOS_ text. Are you having an existential crisis that can’t be spoken about in WaHo?”

Still, she sits across from him, pulling down her sweater so it covers her thighs. Simon finds himself staring at his shoelaces, tugging on them absentmindedly. His heart is already hammering, even though he knows Leah won’t yell at him or call his disgusting.

Jesus, does coming out ever get easier?

“What’s up?” Leah nudges him with her foot. She’s wearing her combat boots, as usual. Simon wouldn’t be surprised if she ends up wearing them to prom. “You’ve been weird lately.”

“Weird?” Simon looks up.

She shrugs, “Weirder than usual. Quiet, or something,” She hesitates, “Is it a Jackie thing?”

Simon cringes, “It’s not exactly a Jackie thing?”

“Is that a question or a statement, Spier?” She raises an eyebrow.

“Statement. It’s not exactly a Jackie thing, but it’s a relationship… thing.” He watches her left eyebrow raise up to join it’s right counterpart. “I have a crush. On someone. I think.”

“Gee, Simon, I thought you had a crush on some _thing_ other than some _one_.”

“Oh ha ha,” He rolls his eyes, “I think I have a crush on someone. There, happy?”

“Better! You’re learning how to talk like a human being without pausing in the middle of your sentences! Amazing, Simon!” Leah uses her Abby-impersonation to voice her sarcastic input, and Simon can’t help but snort. They’re both grinning. “Sorry, continue.”

Simon inhales, “I think I have a crush on someone,” Then exhales, “That isn’t a girl.”

He looks down once again, too anxious to even _look_ at Leah right now. Again, he focuses on his laces. They’re grey, nothing like the bright white they’d been at the beginning of the year.

“Okay,” She says, “Cool. Who is it?”

Simon’s confused. When he’d told his family last Christmas, he was showered in hugs and praises and _we won’t treat you any differently_.

He looks up and finds Leah smiling at him. Simon really, really, _really_ loves her.

“Guess,” Simon leans back on his arms.

Leah rolls her eyes and sighs overdramatically. “Uh,” She takes a moment, then leans foreword, smile getting small and almost worried, “Is it Nick?”

Simon can’t even. He lets out a loud bark of laughter. “ _Nick_? No, no, no,” He shakes his head, “Not Nick. Totally not Nick. Never Nick.”

“God, Simon, don’t let him hear you said that. _Not Nick, totally not Nick, never Nick_.” She uses her Simon-voice, nearly perfect after years of practice, “He’d have an aneurism.”

“He’s not _unattractive_ , just…” He shrugs, “I’ve seen him dance in middle school. You can’t come back from that.”

“He’d say the same about you.”

They spend a few moments chuckling. Simon goes back to picking at his shoelaces before Leah reaches over and touches his hand. “Is it Cal?”

“Why would you think it’s Cal?”

“You wouldn’t shut up about him last year,” She rolls her eyes, “Nick and I thought you guys were secret best friends, or something.”

“Yeah, no,” Simon scoffs, “I _had_ a crush on him, but… not anymore.”

“Okay, then I give up. Who’s the mystery man?”

Simon clicks his tongue. “Bram.”

“Greenfeld?”

“Yeah.”

Simon feels jittery. Leah grins and lets out a noise that’s almost a squeal and then he’s excited, all of a sudden. As if he’s just survived some near-death experience. He has that feeling like when you’re craving something all day and when you go home, your mom is already making it for supper.

“He’s pretty hot,” Leah smiles, “Inside and out.”

“Yeah,” Simon’s grinning so hard his cheeks ache.

They bask in the silence and, for Simon, the amazing feeling. It lasts until they’re leaving the building. Just as the brisk October air hits Simon, Leah asks, “So, what are you going to do?”

“Huh?”

“Do you think he’s—”

“Maybe,” Simon shrugs, “I don’t know.”

They walk out to their vehicles, which are parked right next to each other as always. Before they could open any doors, they stand before each other, just staring.

“I think you should ask him out," Leah says.

 _Easier said than done_ , Simon thinks. But then again, is it? Bram and Garrett have already switched tables at school, so there would be no awkward lunches if everything goes wrong and that’s basically the only place he ever interacts with those two.

“Yeah,” Simon shrugs, “Maybe I will.”

 

Leah’s quiet for a moment, then she pulls him into a hug.

“Thank you for telling me,” She says into his hair as he buries his face into her shoulder.

 

 

 


	10. [BRAM] I’m Not Interested In Bullshit

**FRIDAY**

“So then _The Mountain_ just—” Garrett holds out his hands, fingers curled in slightly before thrusting his thumbs foreword, “ _gouged_ out his eyes. It was _badass_ , I’m telling you.”

“Wait until—”

“No spoilers, Greenfeld,” Garrett shouts, eyes narrowing when Bram throws up his hands in a mock surrender, “I’m _serious_.”

“I’ve been under the impression you hated _Game of Thrones_ ,” says Bram as they begin their ascent up the stairs, “What happened?”

On the landing between the first floor and the second stands Max and Will, both of which are sitting on the windowsill, whispering to each other in low voices.

“I was catching up for—” Garrett begins.

“What’s up?” Will hops down from the sill, clapping his hand against Bram’s in a bro-hug as they reach the top of the stairs. “Have you heard about Simon’s party tonight?”

“Williams?”

“ _Spier_.”

Bram's heart skips a beat at the name. "Simon's...throwing a party?”

“ _Right?”_ Will exclaims, “He messaged me directly last night to ask if we wanted to go. Dude was pretty adamant.”

“Which is weird, considering he’d never talked to us in his life.” Max chips in, tapping away on his phone.

“No, that’s not right. On Wednesday he told us to,” Will clears his throat, raising his voice an octave, “ _Stop smoking over here, you smell like trash_. Remember?”

“Shit, right.”

Bram shifts a bit, fiddling with the straps of his backpack uncomfortably. He might’ve screwed things up terribly between himself and Simon, but that doesn’t mean he should just sit around when they’re making fun of him.

“Simon’s okay.” He says. In retrospect, it’s a weak counter.

“Yeah,” Max snorts, then blows upwards to swish his fringe from his eyes, “If you like _annoying_.”

“ _Yeah, if you like annoying_ ,” Mina says in a deep voice as she walks up, hair falling into her eyes in an obvious attempt to mock him. “What’s up, who’re we talking shit about?”

“The drama queen himself,” Max goes back to his phone.

“Ah, okay. He’s chill, you shouldn’t make fun of him.”

“Mina, Mina, Mina,” Will leans against the wall near Max, “You only like Simon because your girlfriend loves him.” He then brightens, “Oh, yeah— get this… Max is actually gonna chill with us tonight. Unlike Monday, when he blew us off for his study date.”

Will hops out of reach when Max swings.

Garrett’s oddly quiet. When Bram looks over, he’s absorbed with his phone. Bram isn’t one to be nosy, but just this instance, he wants to know who’s making his best friend look so murderous. The screen’s low brightness kills his hopes.

“Speaking of Max’s study date—” Mina starts.

“It wasn’t a _date_.”

“—Is Martin going to the party?”

“I don’t know,” Max glares over, “Do I look like his keeper?”

“You’re his best friend.”

“Never say those words again. _Ever_.”

“Well?”

“I seriously don’t know,” Max shrugs, “I asked earlier, but he got all weirded out when I said Simon’s name, so probably not.”

Mina looks as if she’s going to press for more information, but the bell rings. “Adios, losers,” Max solutes as he hops off the windowsill, booking it up the stairs. Will is right behind him like a dog.

Garrett takes Max’s seat on the windowsill as Mina turns towards them, taking a step foreword to get out of the way of passing students. “Preparty at my place then, I guess. Eight o’clock good with you guys?”

Bram smiles and Garrett offers a thumbs up, then she’s gone.

“They were talking about something,” says Bram. Garrett raises an eyebrow, to which he elaborates further, “They stopped when we arrived.”

Garrett nods, glancing out the window. “Probably about the party at Spier’s place.”

Just the mention of the party makes Bram feel uneasy. Like a spidey-sense, except with more nausea.

“I have a bad feeling about the party,” Bram exhales, leaning his head against the windowpane. Garrett shrugs his shoulders, mirroring Bram’s movements, lips curling into a warm, almost fond smile.

“You get bad feelings about everything, Greenfeld.”

“They were talking about _something_.”

“You’re just imagining it because you don’t like them,” Garrett’s smile goes a bit sad and he sits up, launching himself off the windowsill. “I still don’t understand why we’re hanging with 'em instead of Eisner’s group.”

“Because you—"

“Nah, stop right there, bro. I’m not interested in bullshit,” Garrett winces, “I’m gonna be late for class. See you at lunch.”

 

 

 

 

All things considered, this day is shaping up to be horrible-- Garrett's been quiet, Wise set the due date for the English project to early November instead of December, Bram gets a nosebleed after getting nailed with a soccerball at practice. But what solidifies this as a _Bad Day_ is when Bram comes home to find his mother rooting through his things.

“What are you doing?”

His mother jumps, slamming his desk drawer closed. “Abraham,” She raises a hand to her chest, “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“ _What are you doing_?”

She stands up straight, “Have you seen my—”

Bram shakes his head. He’s tired—so, very tired of everything, “What are you _doing,_ Mom?”

A moment of silence stretches on as they stare at each other, but Bram doesn’t back down. He’s had too much of a day to accept his mother’s intrusive behavior.

Crossing her arms against her chest, his mother raises her chin, “I was just checking. I don’t know what you’re up to anymore.”

Bram sighs, “I’m not up to anything.”

“You’ve been hanging around Garrett a lot more since the beginning of the school year—”

“You talk about Garrett as if he’s a criminal. Why can’t you trust that I’m friends with good people?”

“Oh, Abraham,” His mother sighs, stepping foreword.  “I trust you honey.”

A moment passes, in which Bram thinks he’s finally gotten through to his mother.

How terribly naive.

“I trust _you_ ,” She repeats, “but Garrett isn’t… at your level.”

Bram steps back, eyebrows furrowed as he feels the anger that’s been stored away all day bubble up, “You continuously say that, but levels are a concept you’ve made up in your head.”

His mother looks away, clearly attempting to keep her anger at bay. “I’m just worried about your grades, Abraham.”

“Yeah?” Bram scoffs, “What about _me_ , mom?”

She looks taken aback, to which Bram just shakes his head. There's nothing left to say, so he leaves.

“Where are you going?” His mother calls.

Bram grits his teeth, refusing to reply.

 

 

 

 

Garrett doesn’t look surprised when he opens his front door, just ushers Bram inside. They make microwave pizzas and throw on _Game of Thrones_ as they gorge on their cardboard-tasting dinner.

“You get in a fight with your mom?” Garrett asks as the episode’s credits roll. Bram nods, a move in which leads his best friend to shift his body so he’s facing him. “You, uh… wanna talk about it?”

The next episode begins playing. Bram allows the entirety of the recap to play, collecting his thoughts, before hitting pause.

“She went through my room,” He admits, “thinking I was hiding things.”

“Because you hang out with me?”

Bram glances over, where Garrett’s looking down at his lap, twirling his phone around in his hands. “She just doesn’t understand, bro. Like, what’s more important? Being friends with people just for their grades and being miserable, or having friends you _like_ and being happy.”

Bram tilts his head back, closing his eyes.

“But, just so you know… the most important thing to _me_ , Greenfeld, is that my best friend is doing good in all aspects in life. _I_ think she should develop this outlook instead of thinking grades equal happiness.”

Bram opens his eyes tilts his head towards Garrett. He doesn’t mean to speak negatively about his best friend, but it’s the most intelligent-sounding thing Garrett’s ever said to him.

It hits Bram, then, how passionate Garrett must be about this subject.

“Finally!” Garrett grins, “A smile on that sad face!”

Bram sits up, “I’m not sad.”

“Good,” Garrett nudges Bram’s thigh with his foot, “’Cause when you’re sad, I’m sad, too.”

 

“That--"

“I know,” Garrett scoffs, “But I thought saying _no homo_ would ruin the mood.”

Bram rolls his eyes and Garrett’s phone vibrates with a plethora of texts. He scoops it up from his lap before Bram could even try to sneak a peak.

“Who are you—”

“Oh, by the way,” Garrett cuts him off sharply, glancing up, “I’ve been meaning to ask, what were you doing with Spier the other day?”

Bram freezes, teeth clacking together as his mouth snaps shut.

Garrett was passed out upstairs, there was no plausible way—

“When you skipped Adderall’s party?”

Bram lets out his breath, deflating.

“He needed a drive home,” Bram shrugs, trying to seem nonchalant, but the smile on his lips begs to differ.

Garrett’s quiet for a long moment, looking at Bram. Just as it’s getting uncomfortable, his eyes light up.

“So, like,” He leans foreword, grinning mischievously, “It took you an hour to drive him home?”

Bram shoves him back, “Shut up, man.”

“Simon Spier,” Garrett whistles, “He’s a pretty cool dude, I guess.”

“I thought you were angry at him?”

“Nah, just cranky. We’re chill. He’s chill.” Garrett glances away, squinting slightly before flicking his eyes over, “He’s pretty good looking, too, I guess?”

Bram nearly chokes on his own spit as Garrett laughs, loud and bright.


	11. [SIMON] Blue’s The Best Flavor

**FRIDAY (CONT.)**

Leah had called him a disaster today. Simon agrees with her right about now.

Throwing a party is not in his skill set, but he’s procrastinated asking Bram out literally all week and if he continues, Leah might just murk him. Simon knows she’s getting sick of listening to his rants on the subject. Sick of him chickening out and turning tail whenever Bram even walks down the same hallway.

Thankfully, Nick was ecstatic about the party idea and takes it upon himself to plan everything out. All Simon has to do is take the list Nick’s given him and go buy everything on it. That’s why he’s pulling into the local _7-Eleven_  parking lot.

Upon getting out of his car, Simon notices a familiar face sitting outside of the store, swirling a straw in a slurpee. Bram’s soccer bag is sitting next to him, the Creekwood bear bearing it’s ugly teeth at Simon.

On the walk over, Simon tries to think of something cool to say. “Blue’s the best flavor,” He blurts, mentally facepalming after the words leave his mouth.

Bram looks up in surprise, eyes growing comically wide when he sees it’s Simon. “You’re here,” He says, quite dumbly.

“Yeah,” Simon smiles, shoving his hands into his pockets to keep them warm. It’s been getting real cold really quick thanks to the wishy-washy season. Bram’s only wearing a turtleneck. He must be _freezing_.

Speaking of Bram, he’s glancing down at his lap. Simon’s waiting for it, for the _I was drunk_ spiel, but it never comes. Bram remains quiet, cheeks dusted a dark pink color.

“So,” Simon swallows, _here we go_ , he’s not going to chicken out this time—

But then Bram looks up again, giving him all his attention and _shit_. Simon totally blanks, stammering for a moment before closing his mouth. Bram’s giving him a puzzled look now and _god_ Simon feels like such a freaking dork.

“Who are you here with?” He asks just for a filler.

“No one.”

Simon rolls his eyes, “O _kaaay_.”

Bram raises an eyebrow, “Is that hard to believe?”

“Uh, _yes_ , that’s why I asked,” Simon crosses his arms against his chest. “You’re, like, super popular.”

“ _Super popular_ ,” Bram repeats quietly, stabbing his straw into his drink, “Simon, I’m not—”

“So, where’s Garrett?” Simon cuts him off, “ _Orrr_ are you with the _Emo Crew_?”

“Emo crew?”

First, Simon ducks his head so his hair falls into his eyes, “ _I’m Max. I never left my scene phase in middle school.”_ He then makes an attempt to push back his curls into some sort of quiff, “ _I’m Will. I like banging girls on other guy’s beds and eating the raspberry yogurt out of their fridge afterwards_.”

Bram smiles, “Oddly specific.”

“Ugh, Nick stopped inviting him to parties because of it. I mean, of all things to steal, he takes the _raspberry yogurt_. Who does that?”

“Will.”

“Freaking Will.”

They share grins for a quick moment, before glancing away simultaneously.

“So,” Simon says quickly, scared that the silence will settle as awkward. He nudges the toe of Bram’s sneaker with his own, “If you’re alone, you should totally help me set up my party.”

Bram looks up, clearly confused. “You’re having a party?”

“ _What?_ Will said you guys were coming!”

“Simon,” Bram chuckles as he stands up, hiking his bag over his shoulder, “I’m joking.”

“Okay, yeah. Obviously.”

Another bout of silence, before Bram nods towards the store. “Are we—”

“Yeah, sorry.”

Leah is truly, one hundred percent right. He is such a freaking disaster.

 

 

 

 

They split up once inside, gathering the things from Simon’s list. Bram snags the bags off the counter, only smiling when Simon offers to carry one. As they step back outside, Simon nods towards his car. “I’ll meet you at my place?”

Bram glances down, “I actually walked—”

“This is, like, thirty minutes from your house,” Simon feels his eyes grow wide, momentarily forgetting Bram’s an _athlete_ and probably walks that far for, like, pleasure. Or something.

"I came from Garrett's--"

" _Still_."

“Some people enjoy jogging, Simon.” He looks amused, to which Simon’s cheeks begin to warm up.

“I— _whatever_ , Bram.”

They toss the bags into the backseat before embarking on the drive to Simon’s house, _The Kinks_ killing the silence that would likely be awkward had the music not been blaring.

Simon could practically _feel_ Bram’s mind turning, trying desperately to find out a way to bring up their last face-to-face interaction without being too straightforward. Or maybe he isn’t thinking about that at all.

Either way, _Simon_ ’s thinking about it.

 

 

 

 

They set up the drinks on the kitchen table before ripping open the bags of red solo sups, stacking them next to everything. Bieber jumps up on his haunches to sniff around.

“I guess this is kinda like a preparty.” Simon says slowly, picking one of the cups from a stack. When he glances over, Bram’s got an eyebrow raised.

Simon… really has no idea what he’s doing as he reaches for the vodka bottle, then orange juice. He barely ever drinks, let alone _make_ drinks. But he’s seen Nick make screwdrivers, like, five billion times, so Simon can do it. Totally.

Vodka, orange juice. Simon then hands the cup over to Bram, who doesn’t hesitate to take a large swig.

He put way, _way_ too much trust in Simon.

Bram chokes, covering his mouth as he ducks away, nearly spitting the drink everywhere. As he does so, Simon can’t help but snicker, which turns into barks of laughter.

“Something’s not right in there,” Bram coughs. Simon gets a wave of déjà vu.

“I swear I’m not out to poison you,” He takes the cup back, staring down into it with disdain, “I don’t know how I messed this up, it’s like the _easiest_ thing to make.”

Simon looks back up as Bram grabs another cup, mixing up his own screwdriver. He concentrates, as if he’s pouring chemicals into a beaker rather than mixing up a drink. He’s such a freaking nerd, it’s so—

“Here,” Bram holds out the drink.

Simon gingerly takes the cup and raises it to his lips, expecting the worst. Except, it’s not horrible. “This actually isn’t disgusting,” He says, surprised.

“Perks of being best friends with a chronic party-thrower,” Bram blushes, shrugging. “I barely added any vodka. I know you don’t like to drink.”

“ _Chronic party thrower_ ,” Simon snorts.

“Chronic party thrower,” Bram leans back against the table, a warm smile on his lips. Simon feels this happy little twang in his chest, because that smile is for _him_.

“His parties always involve stabbing beer cans to chug.”

“Stabbing beer cans?”

“Yeah, like—” Simon jogs over to the fridge, opening it to reveal the beer Nick had dropped off while earlier. He breaks a can off the plastic and holds it up, pointing to the middle, “He stabs it here and chugs it, or whatever.”

Bram nods, “It’s his party trick to impress girls.”

“Stabbing beer? Some party trick, anyone could do that.”

Bram raises a brow and Simon raises one right back, before rolling his eyes. “I’ll show you, look—” He pulls his car keys out and presses the metal against the can. Bram steps back before it could puncture, and Simon hesitates, “Why’d you do that?”

Bram shrugs, but he’s so obviously trying to hide a smile. When Simon narrows his eyes, he walks over. Their fingers brush as Bram takes the keys and the can, which nearly gives Simon an aneurism.

Jesus, he’s beginning to remind himself of every girl in every romcom ever. He needs to calm down, pronto.

Bram tilts the can slightly, “So it won’t explode,” He presses the key into the end of the can before raising it up quickly, chugging down the beer.

He has a few moles on his neck, like those on his cheek. Simon wants to kiss them.

 _Jeeesus,_ his mind needs to _lay off_.

“Okay, my turn,” He reaches into the fridge to get another drink before his mind could wander even further. Bram tosses him the keys and Simon stabs the can—

Beer sprays from the hole and Simon lifts it quickly, nearly choking in his attempt to chug the drink. Bram’s laughing at his embarrassment and, when Simon finishes half the can, says, “You never seize to amaze.”

“Oh, shut _up_ , Bram,” Simon narrows his eyes, but there’s a smile playing at his lips, “If we were chugging normally, I’d win.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, totally,” Simon nods, grabbing two more beer from the fridge, “You’ll be left in the freaking dust, Greenfeld. Garrett will disown you.”

Bram grins, catching the can Simon tosses to him.

They both crack open the cans normally, counting down to one before starting the competition. Predictably, the beer is disgusting, but Simon’s determined to win. He closes his eyes and lets the beer run down his throat. All is going fine, completely _fine,_ until a hand grips his hip.

Coughing, Simon’s eyes fly open as he jumps back at the touch. He coughs into his wrist, hand dripping from beer that had sloshed out of the can in the commotion.

When he glances up he notices Bram, who’s standing a few feet away, looking pretty damn suspicious.

“Cheater!” Simon finds himself grinning.

Bram ducks his head, “We never determined any rules.”

His words are beginning to slur together slightly and Simon’s thankful he’s a lightweight, too. It would be vaguely embarrassing to be tipsy after two beer if Bram’s totally good.

“New rule,” He points at Bram, who’s getting two more drinks from the fridge, “ _No distracting Simon_.”

“I’m distracting?” Comes the reply with a raised eyebrow.

Simon snatches the beer, “Shut up,”

Repeating what was done before, they crack open the beer and count to one before bringing the cans to their lips. But this time Simon lowers his drink as Bram’s eyes flutter closed, focused on chugging.

It takes much less than a hip-squeeze to get Bram to choke. All he has to do is brush his fingers over Bram’s bicep before he’s bent over, coughing.

“ _Cheater_ ,” Is all he gets out.

“The rules were: no distracting _Simon_.” His raises his drink to cover a smile.

“Heathen,” Bram growls, but he’s smiling now. He uses the bottom hem of his shirt to wipe his mouth and for a moment, Simon gets a view of his defined stomach and _holy shit_.

“Simon,” Bram waves a hand in front of his face, breaking Simon’s internal monologue before it could begin. Simon looks up, blinking. “I asked—”

“At your house,” He blurts out, “Did you try to kiss me?”

Bram looks taken aback, eyes wide. He opens his mouth, as if he wants to explain himself, before closing it when no words leave. Simon just stares, eyes a bit wide himself. That… was _not_ how he wanted to ask the question.

“’Cause, like, I wouldn’t’ve been _opposed_ to it,” Simon babbles, “If you had. _You know_. Kissed me.”

There’s nothing but silence after that, Bram still looking _scared_ and Simon just internally freaking out. This… probably wasn’t the best idea he’s ever had. He’ll blame his lightweight tendencies—

“I…” Bram scuffs the toe of one shoe against the other, glancing up for a flash of a moment, “I wanted to, yes.”

“Okay,” Simon nods, suddenly feeling like he’s high off caffeine. “Okay, great.”

“Great?”

“Yup. Great, amazing. _Great_.”

Bram steps foreword. Simon forgets how to freaking _breath._

His heart is beating quickly, cheeks burning. This could be a heart attack. A Bram-induced heart attack. All things considered, it wouldn’t be the _worst_ way to go.

“ _Simon_ —”

“Sorry, sorry,” He shakes himself out of his stupor, “I’m paying attention.”

Bram’s suddenly really close, his hand sliding up to rest on the side of Simon’s neck. He almost looks lost in thought, eyes still wide and curious.

Then he’s swooping down and pressing their lips together and _wow_.

Simon’s kissing _Bram Greenfeld_. Popular, soccer-star, _Cute Bram Greenfeld_.

It’s sloppy and uncoordinated and fast, because Simon doesn’t want to slow down. He _can’t_ slow down, not while Bram’s hands lower to his hips, squeezing. Simon sighs against his lips, wrapping his arms around his neck.

Soon, his back presses against the island. Strong hands grip Simon’s thighs, urging him up. Bram slips between his legs, fitting there like a puzzle piece.

Suddenly, Simon shifts, pulling back and resting his forehead against Bram’s shoulder. He’s hard already, which… _embarrassing_. “Sorry,” He grumbles.

But Bram just laughs, light and airy. He nudges Simon so he’ll sit back up, then cups his cheeks once they’re face-to-face again. “Hey,” He’s smiling now, so warm and soft and _wow_.

Simon really, _really_ doesn’t know how he got this angel into his kitchen.


	12. [BRAM] So Fucking Ignorant

**FRIDAY (CONT.)**

Upon arriving, Mina’s squad doesn’t speak of Bram ditching the preparty. In fact, they don’t speak to him at all, opting to make their way into the growing crowd to mingle and get drinks. Garrett is the only one to greet Bram, slinging an arm around his shoulders as he shouts a loud, “Show me the keg!”

“It’s outside,” A familiar, near-deadpan voice comes from behind them.

Leah’s smile is but a curl of the lips as they turn. “Burke!” The name leaves Garrett’s lips alongside a bark of laughter as he detaches himself from Bram, “Will you escort me out, Khaleesi?”

She rolls her eyes, but offers him an arm. Garrett seems way too enthusiastic as he slings his own through the loop, saluting Bram as they disappear into the mess of tipsy teens.

At least now Bram knows why Garrett’s been watching Game of Thrones.

“Sooo _that_ wasn’t weird or anything,” Simon appears, nearly making Bram jump. The boy was a walking mess, yet always finds a way to sneak up on him. “Since when are they friends again?”

Bram shrugs, perplexed as well. He watches as they exit through the patio doors. “He hasn’t mentioned anything to me.”

“Leah, either,” Simon huffs, “They never tell us anything. It’s no fair. Leah _knows_ I’m nosy.”

“Yeah,” Bram hums, shifting on his feet. The silence that settles between them isn’t quite as uncomfortable as it is stuffy, full of things going unsaid.

“Hey,” Simon says, tugging at Bram’s sweater sleeve, “We should probably talk about… y’know. Wanna go upstairs?”

Upstairs, alone in Simon’s room. The scandalous thoughts that run through Bram’s brain make his heart race and cheeks heat up.

 

 

 

 

Speaking doesn’t quite happen, as they’re hormonal virgins with sexual frustration that has been pent up for ages. What _does_ happen is a makeout session on the bed, Simon straddling Bram as they kiss.

“We should talk,” Simon breaks away with a solid idea, but Bram doesn’t want to talk. His mind is still fuzzy from the drinks earlier, the only thoughts running through his brain being _Simon, Simon, Simon_ and _touch, touch, touch_.

Bram leans foreword, sliding a hand to caress one side of Simon’s neck while he nips the other. “Later.”

“No, really,” Simon places his hands on Bram’s shoulders, pressing him back into the mattress. “Like, don’t get me wrong, this is _really freaking amazing_ , but—”

Bram continues to stare up as Simon, who had previously been attempting a serious look, but now had a smile breaking up the façade. In one swift move, Bram flips them over and slides between Simon’s legs, reveling in the hiss that leaves the smaller boy’s lips.

“ _Shit_ ,” Simon breaths as Bram grinds up against him. The noise goes straight to Bram’s dick.

All things considered, it’s a tragedy when someone bangs on the door.

“Occupied!” Simon yells, likely louder than he needed to.

“Simon!” Abby’s voice is quick behind the door, “Garrett and Nick are—they’re—I— _outside_!”

 

 

 

 

“ _What the fuck is wrong with you?”_ Nick’s shouting as the boys pull open the patio door.

He’s bleeding profusely from his nose, one hand gripping Garrett’s neck as the other one wraps around his bicep. Blood is streaked bright red across his teeth as he bares them in Garrett’s direction.

Bram leaps down the stairs, quickly making his way over to the fight. His hands collide with Nick’s shoulders in a hard shove, sending him stumbling as Bram slides in front of his best friend.

“ _Psycho!”_ Garrett yells from over Bram’s shoulder, enraging Nick even more. Simon manages to kick out of his daze and hold Nick back just in time, whispering something that just a bit too quiet for Bram to catch.

“No, _no,”_ Nick replies to whatever had been said, pushing Simon away, “You’re probably in on it, too, Greenfeld. You think it’s _funny_ to mess with someone like that? Fuck off.” He flips Bram off once he realizes he can’t escape Simon and Abby’s combined grip.

Garrett shakes his head, shoving past Bram as he stalks down the stairs. Bram follows, only sending a fleeting glance back at Simon. Nick glares him down the entire way.

“Garrett,” Bram tries, jogging to keep up, “What happened, man?”

“Eisner’s so fucking ignorant,” Garrett’s laughs humorlessly, “Doesn’t know shit, yet talks his mouth off.” He scoffs, “What a great guy.”

It doesn’t take long for Bram to remember he’s been drinking and can’t drive. When he hesitates putting the key into the ignition once they’re inside the civic, Garrett reaches for the chain.

“I never got a chance to drink,” He says, almost bitterly as they switch seats, “Eisner was already cranky when I got out there and started arguing about six seconds in.”

“Cranky?”

Garrett hums, clicking on the radio as he starts up the car. “Suso was silent for once, so I’m thinking relationship issues or some shit.”

“That—”

“Doesn’t mean he should be a dick. I know,” Garrett taps his fingers against the steering wheel to the beat of the song, “But that’s Eisner, I guess.”

Bram tilts his head to glance over to his friend, who looks about ready to cry, humming along to the radio as if nothing’s wrong.

Had it been a few weeks ago, Bram would’ve turned away as if he hadn’t noticed and allowed Garrett to walk home without asking how he was— afraid to seem clingy. However, that was then, and this is now. As they pull onto Roswell Road, Bram asks: “Do you want to stay over tonight?”

Bram’s unable to decipher all the emotions that fly through Garrett’s face. “Your mom’s home, bro.”

“I believe we were on episode seven of season four.” Bram leans his head back, closing his eyes, “I own the boxset, so it’ll be good quality. Unlike your illegally downloaded copies.”

Soon, they pull into the driveway. This is when he finally opens his eyes, looking over at his best friend. Garrett is glancing out his own window, shoulders high before he practically launches himself over the console.

“I love you, Greenfeld. All the homo,” He’s pressing his face into Bram’s neck, hugging him tight, “We were on episode _eight_ , though,” He sniffles, “Get it right.”


	13. Hey.

**[ TO:** _Bram Greenfeld_ **]**

_10/14/17_

[12:44pm] **Simon** : Hey!

[12:44pm] **Simon** : So, I meant to ask you something at the party, but obviously we got a bit sidetracked.

 

_10/15/17_

[10:17am] **Simon:** Can we meet up and talk about things, maybe? It’s totally okay if you don’t want to.


	14. [SIMON] Get Out of the Closet

**MONDAY**

“Hey, is Bram here today?” Simon asks, walking up to Mina’s squad. They’re totally the definition of edgy, sitting out behind the bleachers passing along what looks to be (and smells like) a joint. He wonders what Cassie would think about that.

Mina shakes her head, “Sorry, Simon.”

“Hey, Simon,” Two girls say together as they pass by, both giving him polite smiles. He gives them a wave, slightly confused. It’s like—he’s not clueless about his popularity. Simon’s aware that being Creekwood’s best soccer player’s best friend means basically everybody knows who he is. But it’s not like pretty girls say _hello_ to him in the halls, or whatever.

“Ugh,” Mina wrinkles her nose in the girls’ direction, “You know them?”

“Not at all,” Simon replies just as Will swings out from under the bleachers, running fingers through his hair.

“Cheerleaders incoming,” He smirks.

Taking that as an invitation to _get lost_ , Simon smiles in Mina’s direction before walking towards the back doors. ‘Walking’ is to put it gently, as Simon had quickly high-tailed it out of there, as _you-know-who_ is on the squad.

The doors lead into the cafeteria, which was still in chaos-lunch mode. He jogs down the stairs, eager to get to his table. “Hi, Simon!” Someone says as he passes them, but when Simon turns back, he doesn’t know the girl waving. Weird. Ultra, super weird.

When Simon turns back around, he nearly bowls Jackie over.

“Why are you running from me?” She asks, arms crossed against her chest. Everyday, this girl must wake up at six o’clock just to get all that makeup on to look perfect. Today, it doesn’t even look like she put mascara on.

“Pssh, I’m not _running_ from you,” Simon mirrors her, crossing his arms against his chest, “I’m—” Jackie grabs the arm of his jacket, “— _oookay_.”

She drags him out of the caf and into the nearest classroom, locking the door behind them. Simon rubs his wrist as she stands in front of the door looking downright pissed. What she’s angry about now, Simon has no freaking clue.

“If this is about my party, I’m really sorry about not seeing you—”

“I’m not mad because you didn’t say hi,” Jackie huffs, rolling her eyes as she grits her teeth. Then Simon’s leveled with a _look_ , as if she wants him to clue in. When he doesn’t, she clicks her tongue and says, “I’m mad because you’ve been leading me on for the past few weeks even though you’re gay, Simon.”

Just like that, Simon’s stomach drops.

“It’s twenty-seventeen,” Jackie opens the door, “Get out of the closet.”

Then she’s leaving, slamming the door closed in her wake.

 

 

 

 

_What the fuck._

 

 

 

 

Simon runs his fingers through his hair, tugging on the ends because _who_ , _what, when, how, why?_ In his mind, he sifts through everyone who knows. His parents wouldn’t say anything to anyone, neither would Nora or Alice. Leah would never say anything either.

There’s only one other person who knows.

 ** _Jackie knows I’m gay. Did you tell anyone about Friday?_** He texts Bram, as if he’d actually reply. The asshole has been silent, ignoring Simon’s messages since the party.

Eventually, he comes to the dreadful realization that he has to get his script and backpack from his locker before going home to cry.

Holding in tears, Simon is beginning the journey to his locker when his name is called from up ahead.

“Hey, Simon,” The group of seniors are all smiling. Simon glances up just in time for one of the guys to grab his jaw, pulling him in for a kiss—coming _so_ close before Simon could even attempt to pull away.

Luckily, their lips don’t touch, but the jock’s buddies think it’s hilarious.

Simon continues walking. Quicker, this time, ignoring their obnoxious laughter and nasty cat-calls.

“Aw, come back, Spier!” A girl from the group calls, “Andrew wanted a turn!”

Nick and Leah are hanging out by his locker when Simon goes to get his things. Deep in conversation, they don’t stop their chatter as he grabs his backpack, shoving books inside before hiking the strap over his shoulder. They do, however, quiet down once he slams his locker door shut.

“Are you okay, dude?” Nick asks cautiously, grabbing Simon’s shoulder before he could storm off. He speaks as if Simon’s a frightened animal.

“Si, woah, slow down. Breath,” Leah brushes her fingers against his hand.

Simon doesn’t want the compassion from his friends, or to be _touched_ right now. He just wants to go home. His eyes burn with unshed, angry tears.

“Simon—” Leah tries when he rips away from them, taking a step back. She goes to grab his wrist in a last-ditch effort, but he shrugs her off. He wants to be _alone_.

“Chill, Leah,” Simon hears once he’s a few steps away, back turned. Nick’s talking loud enough so he’ll hear, “Obviously Simon doesn’t want us around. He’s probably going to meet up with Bram and ditch us.”

It wasn’t said unkindly, in fact it was likely a joke referencing Simon ditching Martin’s party. Still, Simon’s had a frustrating day.

In one hard shove, he sends Nick into the lockers. The loud smash of human against metal draws the attention of the entire hallway, conversations cutting off as people watch.

Coming out of his stunned state, Nick shoves him back. “The fuck is wrong with you?”

Leah is suddenly between them, facing Nick as she gently keeps him from jumping Simon. But Nick isn’t moving, isn’t trying to get to Simon. Instead he just stands there, worried. “What’s going on? _Talk to me._ ”

Simon turns and quickly notices the amount of people watching, whispering quietly as they stare.

“Is that the gay kid?” Someone asks and _ohhh_ —Simon’s out of there.

He’s down the steps in record time, shouldering open the front door as he fumbles around for his phone. **_Nvm about that last statement. EVERYBODY knows. Did you tell anybody? Please answer._ ** He texts Bram again, fingers trembling as he hits send.

Once out in the parking lot, Simon’s car doesn’t start, because _of_ _course_ it doesn’t. When do things ever go his way?

He slams his hand down on the steering wheel before lowering his head down, pressing his forehead against the hot leather. As he’s willing himself not to cry, his phone buzzes in his pocket.

 

 **[ CHAT:** Leah **]**

[12:57pm] **Leah:** I’m going to fucking murk whoever spread this shit.

Yeah. The feeling’s mutual.


	15. [BRAM] Fake, Fake, Fake, Fake

 

**MONDAY (cont.)**

Bram shuts his phone off on Sunday, after the mere thought of answering Simon’s texts turn him into a nauseated mess. Without the alarm on his cell being set, Monday morning he doesn’t wake up on time. After the realization-panic subsides, Bram decides to take the day to relax.

‘Taking the day to relax’ is a phrase that should be taken lightly, as he reads ahead in his history textbook and rewrites the bio notes Garrett Snapchats him. On top of this, he proceeds to go for a jog that turns into a run, and doesn’t stop until it's three hours later and his lungs  _ache_.

There is no _relaxing_ in Bram’s day. If he even sits still for two moments, his brain gets filled up with _Simon, Simon, Simon_ and the guilt from not answering his texts washes through Bram's entire body.

At dinner, his mother doesn’t say anything about his absence from school. In fact, she doesn’t say a single word. The table is silent for the entire meal.

 

 

 

 

**TUESDAY**

As Bram meets his friends at the landing on Tuesday, the first thing he notices is Garrett’s eye. Although you could see more white than red now in the sclera, the bruise on his face is disgusting. Light browns and greens, but still a dark purple in some spots.

“Settle this for us,” is Will’s greeting as he points to Garrett, “This idiot says they should reboot the X-Men again. A reboot of the reboot. Please tell me you’re not on his side.”

“Who cares?” Max groans, shoving past Bram as he arrives.

Will suddenly breaks out into a grin, past argument forgotten as he exclaims, “Max! I have _tea_.”

“Wow, Sister Will, what’s the tea?” Max asks in a high pitched, stereotypical gay voice as he leans up against the wall, “Amy got caught giving Spencer a H.J. in the pool? Nick and Abby broke up? You and Olivia banged? Do you forget I hear _everything_ that goes on in this school?”

“No, I—” Will is _buzzing_ , “Simon Spier is gay, man.”

Max chews on his bottom lip, eyes flicking away. Meanwhile, Bram feels his heart stutter, “Where’d you hear that?”

“Uhhh,” Will shrugs, “I don’t really remember—”

“Think.” Garrett says, suddenly very serious, and Will furrows his eyebrows. “Sorry, it’s just a rumor that shouldn’t be spread about someone, bro.”

“No worries?” Will looks puzzled, “I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal, though. Creekwood isn’t homophobic or whatever. Right, Max?”

“Right,” Max grumbles, hopping up onto the windowsill next to him. Bram glances over for a quick moment at Max's odd behavior, as he'd usually be pressing for more information. He loved his gossip.

“Anyway, I heard it from Mina, who heard it from Cassie, who heard it from Olivia, who heard it from Jackie.”

“Who’d Jackie hear it from?” Bram asks.

Will shrugs, “I didn’t really… ask… but I can probably get the info?”

“Coffee, let’s go,” Max interrupts abruptly, tugging Will down off the windowsill with him. Then, in a rare occurrence, Max _jogs_ down the stairs.

“I’m gonna get a coffee too,” Garrett declares, hiking his bag over his shoulder. “You coming?”

Bram jumps up to sit on the windowsill, “Max was in a hurry to leave.”

“Mmhm, yeah,” Garrett shrugs, “He’d do anything for coffee. Do you want anything?”

Bram shakes his head, and his best friend solutes before jumping down the stairs, stumbling as he jogs to catch up with the other boys. Will wraps an arm around Garrett’s neck, pulling him into a friendly headlock.

“Is Will stealing Garrett?”

Bram jumps, having not noticed Jackie walk down the stairs. She’s smiling, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “J-K,” She adds, taking a seat next to Bram on the windowsill.

He gives her a polite smile before glancing outside, which gave him a clear view of the student parking lot, where the boys are getting into Will’s pickup truck. “Oh my _god_ ,” Jackie exclaims, “They’re so fake! Fake, fake, fake, fake! People say boys don’t have girl-drama, but they really do.”

Bram raises a brow in her direction when she glances over, causing Jackie to roll her eyes. “Max doesn’t like Garrett.”

Sitting up a bit straighter, Bram asks, “How do you know?”

Jackie shrugs, digging about her purse, “Max totally talks shit about him, duh. He rants to me on Facebook about everything. If he’s not shit-talking Cassie, he’s going off about Garrett.”

“Are you and Max friends?”

“Naaah,” She draws out the vowel, coming up with a tube of chapstick from her bag. After applying it, she continues, “We were in a relationship freshman year and just… never stopped talking. Or, _he_ never stopped talking. I’m basically his therapist now.”

They share a look, then she ducks her head, “I kinda wish I could get paid for all the time I waste listening to him, ‘cause I couldn’t give less of a shit about his issues. Did you know he and Will—” She then shuts up, tilting her head to the side, “Nevermind. That’s not what I came here to tell you.”

Bram raises a brow, to which she grins, “I was going to ask if you would peer edit my history essay? I have to ace it, and you were really smart when we worked together that one time, not to mention Simon’s told me about your English grade.”

Jackie speaks a million words a minute, so it takes Bram a few moments to register her words. He shakes his head, “Sorry, I—”

“No probs!” Jackie cuts him off, “I’ll study with me, myself and I! And _Google_ , maybe Tumblr. Wikipedia, too. A real party, haha…ha. Text me if you change your mind!”

Then she's gone, leaving Bram alone with his thoughts.

 


	16. [SIMON] Did Outing Me Make You Feel Good?

**TUESDAY (CONT.)**

Nora’s droning on to someone on the phone, speaking just loud enough to be heard through the thin wall that separates her and Simon’s rooms.

“Um, I don’t know… it’s… no, I think so too… yeah… um, it’s like, when you’re in love, you expect it to be like a movie, or something. But that’s not how it works, I guess. I thought Cal and I would be together forever…”

Simon hates how much he’s relating to the shit she’s spewing, making his eyes prickle with tears. He turns onto his side, covering his ears with a pillow in some sort of fruitless attempt to mute her words.

“Nobody lives happily ever after.”

He shoves his blankets off and chucks his pillow, startling Bieber. Simon throws open Nora’s door as soon as he’s in the hallway and is met by wide-eyes. Slowly, she raises her hand up to the phone’s mic and lowers it.

“Sorry,” She sniffles, “Did I wake you?”

“ _Thin walls_ , Nora. How many times a week do I have to freaking say it?” Simon finds himself nearly shouting, voice likely loud enough to wake their parents, “I need sleep, which I can’t get when you’re talking all this—” He makes some hand movements that don’t even make sense to himself, “—this _bullshit_.”

Her bottom lip wobbles and she nods, blinking rapidly as she glances away. “Whatever, Simon, I get it. Whatever. I’ll talk to Alice tomorrow. Um. Sorry.”

With a nod, Simon closes her door. It only takes a moment before he’s swinging it back open, guilt settling low in his gut. “Nora?”

She looks over, lowering the phone again.

“Cal is an idiot, okay? You’re the coolest girl I’ve ever met.”

Nora smiles, wiping her eyes quickly, “Thanks, Si.”

“C’mon,” He smiles softly, “Let’s watch that stupid _Star Trek_ show you like so much.”

Lips still turned up, Nora says something into the phone before she’s stumbling over, pulling Simon into a big hug.

 

 

 

 

They end up watching _Spider-Man_ , and Simon continues even after Nora passes out. Seeing Tobey Maguire swing from building to building makes his chest hurt and head swim.

 

 

 

 

**WEDNESDAY**

A few weeks ago, Simon and Nick were ecstatic about their locker assignments being right next to each other. Now, walking up and watching Nick shove books into his locker, Simon can’t help but curse their proximity.

Class starts in five minutes, though, so he musters up courage and slides up to his locker. It’s silent for a few moments, as Simon spins in his combination and shoves his backpack inside.

“I’m not mad, y'know,” says Nick.

Simon side-glances over slowly, but his best friend’s focused on organizing his locker. There’s a pregnant pause where Simon does the same, before Nick closes his own locker softly.

“I’m just worried. You’ve been weird lately and Leah tells me not to worry about it but—” Nick shrugs, then finally looks over, “I worry, so let me know if you want to talk about whatever's bothering you.”

Then he’s gone, heading towards first period.

 

 

 

 

The first three classes seem to drag on forever, possibly because Simon avoids eye contact with everyone. During short breaks where the hallways are full, he hears people whispering as he passes. He can’t exactly hear what they’re saying, but it’s _gotta_ be about him, right? After all, his sexuality is the hot, juicy gossip right now.

Lunch finally comes, and Simon has the right mind just to sit with Nora and her little emo friends, but he’s intercepted by a group of senior girls he doesn’t even know.

“Hi, Simon!” A blonde one says, hopping a bit as she speaks, “We were thinking it would be cool if you’d sit with us?”

“No, that’s okay—”

“We _insist_ ,” A brunette exclaims.

“Uhh, I’m—”

“ _Gay?_ We know,” The third girl exclaims, oddly excited, “And it’s totally okay! We _love_ gays, don’t we girls?”

Simon cringes as he pushes past them, moving towards the lunch line. Was this what it was like being out? Loved by preppy girls and hated by everyone else?

The lunch lady brings him out of his own head by asking for his order, to which Simon totally blanks and just gets the daily special. As he’s stepping off with his tray, Simon nearly runs straight into a human wall.

“No cinnamon?” Bram asks slowly, a small smile on his lips.

Simon really, really wants to punch him. And maybe kiss him, but _punch_ him after. But first, he’s confused. Cinnamon— _ohh_. It was grilled cheese day. Right. He glances back up, “Yeah.”

Taking a step to the side, Simon tries to leave, but Bram steps into his way again. “Simon—”

He feels all the anger that’s been bubbling up inside boil over. Who did this guy think he _was,_ ignoring him for four days then showing up and expecting _Simon_ to listen?

“Just curious,” Simon looks up, narrowing his eyes, “Did outing me make you feel good?”

“I—”

Finally, Simon finds the courage to shove past him, sending Bram stumbling. He stalks over to his table, slamming his tray down and startling a miserable-looking Nick.

“Where’s Leah?” Simon needs to _rant_ , stat.

“Band practice,” Nick looks up, “Are you—”

“Remember this morning?"

With a nod, Nick grabs his bag. "Let's go somewhere quieter?"

 

 

 

 

Mr. Wise’s room is open during lunch, so the boys crash on the old couch. Nick doesn’t speak, just waits as Simon collects his thoughts. Which, there are _so many_.

“You’ve heard the rumors?” Simon decides to start the conversation with, receiving a nod in reply. “It’s true, I’m gay,” When Nick opens his mouth, Simon cuts him off with a, “Also, Bram and I had a thing?”

Taken aback, Nick stammers out a, “ _Greenfeld?”_

“Yeah,” Simon tries to keep the bitterness out of his tone, but isn’t very successful, “I threw the party to talk to him, but he had to leave early,” Nick at least had the audacity to look apologetic, “And now he won’t answer my texts. He wouldn’t even look in my direction until today in the caf. I just don’t freaking get it. But, like, I think he outed me? Because I know my family wouldn't tell anyone, or Leah. So.”

Nick’s silent for a long while, emotions flying across his face as he glances about the room in thought. Then, his eyes flick back over and he says, “It could be Garrett.”

Simon raises a brow, “Garrett? What does he have to do with anything?”

“He said some things at your party. That’s why I punched him,” Nick shrugs, “So, maybe Bram told him everything and _he_ outed you because he’s homophobic.”

Jesus, that oddly made a lot of sense. But Garrett had seemed like such a good guy. A little stupid, maybe, but he wasn’t the type of person Simon had thought to be a homophobe.

“Maybe,” Simon replies, but it doesn’t sit right.


	17. [BRAM] Trust Me On This

**WEDNESDAY (CONT.)**

Walking through the hallway, Bram’s brain cannot seem to function through the consistent static that is: _did outing me make you feel good?_ Simon’s question follows him down the corridors, that small voice crack near the end driving Bram insane.

He shoulders through the backdoor, making his way towards the bleachers.

“Isn’t that hilarious?” Garrett’s grinning at Will, who’s laughing as he reads something on his phone, “You can log me out when you’re done.”

They both look up as Bram ducks underneath a bar, entering their little space. Still grinning, Garrett peers up, “Greenfeld, I found this private Facebook page—”

“Did you figure out who told Jackie?” Bram interrupts, voice unintentionally hard. Both boys’ smiles drop, and even Mina glances up from her book at the tone. “Sorry—”

“What’s up?” Garrett asks slowly.

Bram takes a breath, then, “Simon thinks I outed him,” He scoffs the toe of his shoe against the ground, eyes flicking over to Will.

Glancing about, Will stammers out, “Well, I don’t know if I should—”

“C’mon,” Garrett urges, shuffling to sit closer, “Bro-code has an exception for assholes who start rumors like this.”

Clearly uncomfortable, Will glances from the boys over to Mina, then back, “Apparently Max told her, but I don’t think that's the truth! He’s not like that.”

Bram and Garrett share a look.

“No, seriously!” Will exclaims, jumping up, “Max isn’t like that—”

“I mean,” Garrett counters, “He always spreads gossip around the school.”

“No,” Will rubs a hand down his face, groaning, “ _No_. Trust me on this. Max isn’t like that. He’s—he wouldn’t spread _that_ , okay?”

“We should tell Simon,” Bram says, eyes flicking between Garrett and Will.

“No,” His best friend replies, sighing as he sits back down, “I… believe Will.”

Bram furrows his brows with a, “ _What_ ,” as Will lets out a relieved breath.

“I mean,” Garrett shrugs his shoulders, “Max loves drama, sure, but I don’t think he’s that scummy.”

“He’s _fake_.”

“Greenfeld—”

“He doesn’t even like you,” Bram insists, “Man, he’s only kind to you because you get him into parties.”

As Garrett’s face falls, Mina stands up, “Hey, woah, not cool. What’s got your panties in a twist, Bram? Why do you care so much about Simon thinking you outed him? Last time I checked, you guys aren’t even friends anymore.”

“Who’s not friends?” A springy voice cuts in, catching the attention of all those under the bleachers. Cassie walks up grinning, sliding an arm around her girlfriend’s waist. “Hi, guys.”

The boys all give her strained smiles, while Mina pecks her on the lips, mumbling a, “Don’t worry about it.”

Of course, Cassie doesn’t allow an awkward silence to settle, as she begins a spiel.

“So, I was thinking we should go on a double date with Molly and Reid. Somewhere fancy, so I can wear my new dress. Jackie was talking about this place the other day—”

_Jackie._

Bram tunes Cassie out, an idea sparking.

 

 

 

 

 **[ CHAT:** Jackie **]**

 **Bram:** Hello, it’s Bram. I was wondering if you still need a peer editor?

 

 

 

 

Jackie’s seated at a table in the back when Bram arrives, fresh out of practice. She waves him over as her laptop boots up.

“What are you going as for Halloween?” Is the first thing she asks, “I think you’d make a really cool Captain America!”

Bram hasn’t thought about costumes; his mind having been anywhere else the past few weeks. He shrugs, “I don’t know yet.”

“Well, I was going to go as Kate Bishop, but I don’t think anyone knows who that is, so I’m probably gonna go as, um, like, Kourtney Kardashian—"

“Hawkeye’s cool,” Bram smiles kindly, “Go as Kate.”

“Oh,” Jackie blushes, looking away to input a passcode into her laptop, “Um, yeah, I… yeah. I will. Probably. Anyway,” She hands over the laptop, “Feel free to change whatever you want. I’m just gonna go get something from the vending machine. Do you want anything?”

“No, thank you,” Bram replies, watching her leave. He waits a moment after she passes through the threshold of the library before pulling up safari and typing _Facebook_ into the searchbar.

As to be expected, Bram is met by the profile belonging to _Jacklyn Worthington_. Upon clicking on her messages, _Max_ is on top, above Taylor Metternich and, surprisingly, Leah.

However, Bram doesn’t click on her name. His time is limited. Instead, he clicks on Max’s conversation and begins scrolling, using his phone to take photos of the screen as he reads.

Jackie wasn’t joking. _Fake, fake, fake,_ is correct.


	18. [SIMON] CWHSmax2

**THURSDAY**

Simon wakes up to a bunch of texts, all from Leah about some Instagram page. Truth be told, he couldn’t care less. That is, until his nosiness gets the best of him and he loads up the app on his phone.

 

**INSTAGRAM  
@CWHSMAX2**

 

**[ @CWHSmax2 POST:**

_Jesus if I have to listen to Cassie talking about how lovey-lovey her and Mina are again im gonna kms **]**_

Tagged: @CWHSmax @cassiepeskinsuso

**[ @CWHSmax2 POST:**

_You should’ve seen how wasted Olivia was at the party lmao she made out with like 5 guys then told everyone the day after that she didn’t hook up with anyone. Like ok if ur gonna be a slut at least admit it **]**_

Tagged: @CWHSmax @olivia9000

 

**[ @CWHSmax2 POST:**

_Garrett said he wanted to be a doctor today… like ????? LMAO DOES HE NOT REALIZE HE NEEDS TO ACTUALLY BE SMART? Like Jesus Christ get real. **]**_

Tagged: @CWHSmax @garrettlaughlin

**[ @CWHSmax2 POST:**

_I’m so sick of Abby being so needy and insecure. We get it, you just broke up with your boyfriend... who cares? **]**_

Tagged: @CWHSmax @abby01suso

**[ @CWHSmax2 POST:**

_17-10-14_

_Remember when I was studying at the library two Mondays ago? (NOT a date, BTW, I kno what ur thinking). I overheard something I think you should know. Wanna meet before the party?_

_K_

_17-10-17_

_WTF? You can’t spread shit like that around the school u fucking moron. Spier and his little gang of pussies will kick my ass. **]**_

Tagged: @CWHSmax @simon2001

 

 

It's a page full of screenshotted messages. Truthfully, Simon doesn’t know why he didn’t _expect_ the page to be drama right off the bat. Like, every time he’s ever gotten a text this early in the morning, it’s been drama-related.

He takes the day off school, not wanting to deal with it.

 

 


	19. [BRAM] GarrettLaughlin2

**THURSDAY (CONT.)**

While Bram had wanted those spoken about in Max’s messages to know what’s been said about them, he hadn’t intended for the entirety of Creekwood High to find out about the account.

Upon arriving to the usual landing Thursday morning, he sits on the windowsill alone. It’s to his surprise when two girls pass, talking about the account.

“I went through my Facebook messages, and oh my god, I would totally get jumped if people saw how much shittalk I do on the daily.”

“Oh, me too. I just get angry and rant to people. Poor Max, I can’t even imagine getting outed like that.”

 _Outed_. Bram hops off the windowsill at the word, moving towards his first period class before the bell even rings. Those girls didn’t know the half of it.

 

 

 

 

At lunch, Bram returns. However, Garrett’s the only one sitting in their group’s usual spot, looking out the window. He doesn’t acknowledge Bram when he arrives, not even a glance over.

“Hello,” Bram says cautiously.

His best friend’s shoulders raise, and he presses his head against the window, “Hey.”

Bram walks over, hopping up on the sill. Garrett won’t meet his eyes as he asks, “Have you looked at your Instagram lately?”

“Oh. I saw the Max—”

“No,” Garrett closes his eyes, “Just go look.”

Confused, Bram unlocks his phone and taps on the application. He logs out of CWHSmax2 and into his main, just to be tagged in a bunch of photos, all belonging to Instagram user _GarrettLaughlin2_.

Bram swears his blood runs cold as he taps on the account.

 

 

**INSTAGRAM  
@GARRETTLAUGHLIN2**

****

**[@GARRETTLAUGHLIN2’s Post:**

_no srsly_

_jimi Hendrix girl is sketchy asf leah ok_

_she totally stole the tv_

_u can tell frm the way she looks **]**_

Tagged: @garrettlaughlin @minac  
Caption: wow how surprising, another racist white kid

****

**[@GARRETTLAUGHLIN2’s Post:**

_[GROUPCHAT: Stop Changing The GC Name Garrett &Leah - Abby]_

_[NAME BLACKED OUT]: Dude. All he has for alcohol was vodka IN THE BATHROOM_

_Garrett: adderall hosts shit parties LOL wat were u expecting_

_Garrett: dnt u wish u could host parties again_

_Garrett: cuz then u wldnt have 2 settle 4 parties hosted by dudes who actully think theyre cool lol **]**_

Tagged: @garrettlaughlin @martymcfladdison

**[@GARRETTLAUGHLIN2’s Post:**

_[GROUPCHAT: disappointed but not surprised_

_Garrett: saw spencer getting a hj frm the nutcracker in the lockerroom 2day lol_

_[NAME BLACKED OUT]: OMG are you scared for life?!_

_Garrett: if it were any1 else i wld be but_

_Garrett: it’s too funny 2 be scarring lol how do u get so desperate u go 2 the nutcracker 4 a quick 1 **]**_

Tagged: @garrettlaughlin @spencer0991 @maddieSC

****

**[@GARRETTLAUGHLIN2’s Post:**

_no but nick had a dream that wuz p legit_

_but idfk how a loser like simon cld get wit a girl like Jackie tho **]**_

Tagged: @garrettlaughlin @simon2001

****

**[@GARRETTLAUGHLIN2’s Post:**

_r u sure hes a game of thrones dweeb?_

_cuz im not sitting thru 7 seasons just 2 have him not even no what it is_

_Shut up, loser._

_Cal loves Game of Thrones._

_Although I’m sure your annoying ass will figure out a way to use way too many pickup lines, resulting in HIM thinking you’re the GOT dweeb. **]**_

Tagged: @garrettlaughlin @c.alvinprice  
Caption: FAG alert. stay away from this one @taylormetternich

**[@GARRETTLAUGHLIN2’s Post:**

_the fight wont hurt u n simon will it?_

_Me and Simon?_

_ya dude im not totally oblivious lol_

_i kinda caught on when u got all blushy blushy @ my house_

_also simon stole way 2 many of ur fries at lunch 2 be platonic lol **]**_

Tagged: @garrettlaughlin @bluegreen118 @simon2001  
Caption: hmmmm

****

****

“I’m sorry,” Garrett’s voice cracks, “Fuck, I’m sorry, Greenfeld.”

“No,” Bram taps on that last photo again, re-reading the text. Does this classify as getting outed? Likely. “This isn’t your fault.”

“I don’t understand how someone could just make a hate account, dude,” Garrett stomps his foot down on the ledge, “I don’t even fucking care about the texts where I’m apparently talking shit, or really about the ones about that stupid tv show, but the ones about you? Fuck. People are so cruel, it’s pathetic.”

Bram can’t drag his eyes away from the screenshotted text, practically outing him to the world. Or, at least the amount of Creekwood students that have viewed the post.

“I know who’s behind the account,” Garrett continues, “It’s Will, because he’s such a cocksucker to his best friend. The dude would fucking kill himself if Max wanted him too, he’s so whipped. Apparently they thought I was the one who made the other account. Which I _didn’t,_ by the way.”

“I know.”

Garrett looks back out the window, crossing his arms against his chest. Somehow, this six-foot-tall jock looks so small and vulnerable sitting in front of Bram.

“I asked him to take it down, but he said he’d only do it if the other account deactivates. But,” He shrugs, “I don’t even know who made the other account, so my dm’s are out in the open now, I guess.”

Following that, the two boys sit in relative silence. Bram slowly turns his head away from his best friend, instead to the world outside. The schoolyard is full, students standing in groups, clad in thin jackets and infinity scarfs. With the end of October quickly approaching, the air was beginning to feel crisp throughout the day instead of just nights.

Both boys glance over as someone jogs up the stairs, faces morphing into identical expressions of surprise when they realize who it is.

“Hey,” Nick greets cautiously as he slows down, stepping up onto the landing.

“Hi,” Garrett sits up straight, swinging his feet off the ledge.

There’s a tense silence where the boys just look at each other, before Nick glances down to where he’s scoffing his shoe off the floor.

“I’m sorry,” He says.

Nick sounds genuine, eyes only flicking up for a quick moment before his gaze lowers back to the floor. Bram glances over towards Garrett, who is looking down at his lap with a small smile, “It’s all good, Eisner.”

“No,” Nick shakes his head, “You weren’t hyping Bram up to make fun of Simon’s crush—or, _alleged_ crush, you were being a wingman.”

“Yeah, bro—hey, wait. You knew Simon had a crush on Bram?”

“Hell no, dude, ” Nick smiles, “I mean, Leah and I’ve thought about Simon being gay, but not Bram. So when you were going on about how good Bram would be for Simon, I thought you were just being homophobic and making fun of them hanging out, but then I saw the Instagram—.”

“Apology accepted, Eisner,” Garrett hops down from the sill, offering a hand. When Nick takes it, he’s tugged into some sort of bro-hug.

“Also it, uh—it would be cool if you guys would come back to the table,” Nick glances between them, “We miss you guys.”

“Hell, yeah!” Garrett grins, wrapping an arm around Nick’s shoulders, “Let’s go. The cafeteria is waiting for us in all of it’s disgusting-scented glory.”

“I’ll meet you down there.”

“Whatever, Greenfeld,” Garrett waves him off, tugging Nick towards the stairs, “I’ll buy you some fries. No promises they’ll still be there when you come, though.”

After giving Garrett a mock-solute, Bram pulls out his phone and loads Instagram. He quickly figures out how to get to the _delete account_ button, tapping it and erasing _CWHSmax2_ out of existence.

That was the simple part. Now, he taps on the iMessage app.

 

 **[CHAT:** Max **]**

 **Bram:** Garrett didn’t make the CWHSmax2 Instagram account.

 **Max:** Yeah I figured. Apparently he stuck up for me yesterday when ur dumb ass accused me of outing Spier.

 **Max:** But anyway, we went through my messages and found the convos so

 **Max:** It was Jackie.

 

Bram types out _, it wasn’t Jackie_ , but doesn’t have time to hit send before more messages come through.

 

 **Max:** She admitted it a few minutes ago when we confronted her. Some friend, huh? Fucking bitch

 **Max:** Anyway, tell Garrett we’re sorry or whatever. We logged out of his FB acc on Will’s phone.

 

Bram sits, finger hovering over the _send_ button, stunned.

Quick footsteps cause him to glance up, only able to watch as Jackie storms up to him.

“What the fuck are you doing?” She glares.

 

 

 

 

Technically, the turf was off-limits to students at lunch, but nothing was against the rules for an angry cheerleader. Bram can only follow, nauseated as hell as she leads the way.

They sit in the middle of the field, criss-cross opposite of each other. Bram swallows thickly, unable to look her in the eye as he says, “It wasn’t my intention that this would come back to you.”

He sneaks a peek, watching as she rolls her eyes, “Oh my— _seriously?_   Um, how were you planning on it not coming back to me? Those were my messages!”

Bram winces. Although he hadn’t planned on the account to hurt Jackie, it had been inevitable from the beginning.

She sighs, “Listen, okay? I don’t really care about what the stoners think of me, I’m actually kinda happy that I don’t have to listen to Max rant about things anymore, but, like, I didn’t expect this from you.”

Bram picks at the fake grass choosing his words carefully, “I couldn’t let Simon think I outed him. I also wanted to bring attention to the fact that Max talks horribly behind people’s backs, so Garrett wouldn't get hurt.”

“Um, Garrett probably knew Max talked shit about him? 'Cause Laughlin’s the same way. _I’m_ the same way. _You’re_ the same way. Everyone talks shit about everyone, Bram. It’s just that you went out of your way to look for the hate, yanno? And once you start looking for the hate, you’ll find it.”

In the distance, the bell rings, but they don’t break the eye-contact. “I’m sorry for screenshotting your chats,” Bram says.

Jackie exhales out, “Don’t worry about it, I’ve done some stupid things, too. Just remember what I said, okay? Be careful, or you'll hurt yourself."


	20. [SIMON] You Deserve a Good Person, Simon

**FRIDAY**

Simon tries to avoid his friends all day Friday, but he gets home and Bieber gets out, talking to Nick is unavoidable. The golden retriever bolts across the street as though his life depends on it, practically tackling the ball Nick was kicking about in the backyard.

When Simon finally arrives, out of breath from the run, there's a fight going on for the ball. Nick makes to grab it, but Bieber growls deep in his throat.

“Wow,” Nick backs away, “That’s cold, Biebs.”

“Hey,” Simon greets as though he didn’t lug around all his books for the entirety of the day, just so he wouldn’t have to face his friends at the lockers.

“Hey, dude,” Nick throws over his shoulder as he kicks the ball from Bieber’s grasp. It goes flying across the lawn, the dog running after it. Defeated, Nick walks over to his patio and takes a seat, kicking the other lawn chair out for Simon to sit.

He does. The chairs outside are old foldables the Eisner’s take on camping trips. Simon’s seat is littered with small holes, likely burnt from cigarettes or flyaway sparks.

“Sooo,” Nick draws out the word, “I was wrong, Garrett didn’t out you.”

Simon nods, “I figured.”

“I was totally wrong about him, dude,” Nick picks at a hole in his chair, “At the party, he was hyping Bram up, not making fun of you for being gay like I thought—”

“You thought I was gay?”

“I mean, you’re a theater geek—”

“That’s  _so_  stereotypical, Nick.”

“And, like, that thing you had? For Chris Pratt a few months ago? Not very hetero, dude.”

Simon roll his eyes, leaning back in his chair, “Whatever. At least I didn’t punch someone for being a good friend.”

“Ugh, god,” Nick rubs his face as he groans, “I totally punched him for being a good friend. Dude, it sounds so shitty when you put it like that.”

Simon lets him wallow because of the  _Chris Pratt_  comment, but Nick’s regret only sticks around for a short time because he suddenly drops his hand. “So,” He leans foreword, lip twitching, “Are you gonna try and get back with Greenfeld?

“ _I mean_ ,” Simon shrugs, “We’d actually have to talk about it and he doesn’t really reply to my texts anymore, so…”

Nick watches him, then raises a brow after the silence stretches on, “So?”

“So, what?”

“Is that it?”

“Nick, Bram doesn’t reply—” He gets cut off by a loud groan, to which Simon looks away, suddenly remembering why he talks to Leah about topics like this, “Yeah, very mature, Nick.”

“ _Simon_ , dude, put yourself out of misery. Text him again.”

“Were you ignoring every freaking thing I’ve said the past five minutes?”

“No, listen, text him and say:  _hey, quit this shit. If you want to be with me, call me or never talk to me again._ ”

“That’s a stupid idea.”

“It’ll work, one hundred percent. If he likes you and wants to be with you, he’ll feel the pressure and call.”

Simon finds himself rolling his eyes, but still pulls his phone out. “Hey. If what happened at the party wasn’t just a fling and you want to be with me, call me. We need to talk about things and I’m sick of you not taking this seriously," He reads as he types. Then, only a few seconds later:

 

 

 **[CHAT:** Bram  **]**

 **Bram:** What are you doing right now? Are we able to talk?

 

“He asked me what I’m doing.”

“Just say you’re chilling at my place.”

“Okay… should I add a smiley emoji? I feel like I’m being too rude—”

“No! Okay, Simon, listen. You want him to call but, like, you have to act as if you don’t want him to. Be suave.”

“I can do suave.”

“I believe in you.”

 

 **[CHAT:** Bram  **]**

 **Simon:** Chilling at Nick’s.

 

Simon tosses his phone on the table as though it’s on fire, shifting in his chair, restless. As he’s chewing on a nail, eyes boring into the electronic, Simon says, “He’s not going to call.”

“He’ll call,” Nick encourages, “There’s no way he won’t.”

They’re both staring at the phone now—waiting, waiting, waiting. As the seconds drag on, Simon doesn’t look up, but he  _knows_  Nick’s giving him a sad look. Eventually, Simon stands up, walking over to where Bieber’s sleeping on the grass to get the soccerball.

He gives it a swift kick, feeling the slightest bit better as the ball hits the metal shed with a loud  _bang_. Nick lingers near the backdoor as Simon takes out his anger, but after three collisions, he asks, “You wanna come inside?”

“No, I’m just gonna—” Simon motions in front of him, “kick this for a while. I’ll imagine the shed’s Bram’s face.”

He demonstrates, launching the soccerball into the makeshift goal. As he’s running to retrieve it, he realizes Nick hasn’t moved yet. “Go inside, Nick. I know you have chores and no offence, but I kinda wanna be alone.”

“… In  _my_  backyard?”

“Shut up, Nick, it’s not weird.”

Simon doesn’t look back, but hears the backdoor open and close. From then on, he stops keeping count of how many times the ball hits the goal. Angry tears are forming, he knows, but they’re blinked away quickly because Bram Greenfeld isn’t  _worth it_.

Gritting his teeth, Simon stands there in the middle of the yard. This time, when he kicks the ball, he’ll envision the shed as his heart, because it’s the whole reason he’s in this mess.

Suddenly, a foot collides with the soccerball and a body darts past him. When Simon turns, ready to yell at Nick for not leaving him alone, it’s Bram standing a few feet away. He has his hands dug deep in his pockets, looking nervous as well.

Good. He  _should_  feel like that.

Bram glances down, dribbling the ball between his feet. Still angry, Simon makes a move to get the ball back, but the other boy spins out of reach.

Glaring, Simon spits out a, “Seriously? What are you, twelve?”

When Bram opens his mouth to speak, Simon takes the opportunity to shoulder past him, successfully getting the ball and maneuvering around Bram to kick it across the lawn. It hits the goal, metal  _wham_   a chime of victory.

“In your  _face_ , Greenfeld,” Simon shouts, surprised to find himself grinning. As Bram jogs over to retrieve the ball, Simon catches a glimpse of him smiling, too.

It goes on like this for a little while, both attempting to keep the ball from each other in Nick’s cramped backyard. Soon, Simon realizes neither of them even attempt to score anymore; it’s just a game of keepaway at this point.

Eventually, both boys decide to take a break and sit on the grass. The silence isn’t as awkward as Simon thought it would be-- they just relax, soaking up each other’s company.

What’s weird to Simon, is how twenty minutes ago he wanted Bram’s head on a spike, but now just wants to be as close as possible. It’s like, Simon’s still pretty angry, don’t get him wrong, yet he still craves intimacy.

Leaning back on the grass, he finds the sky to be colored in the reds and oranges of the sunset. From his peripherals, he notices Bram mirror the move and lie back as well.

They lay like that for a few moments, collecting their thoughts. Soon, Simon tugs at the grass, flicking the little green blades in Bram’s direction as he glances over.

Taking the hint, Bram licks his lips a few times and says, “I haven’t been a good person lately.”

 _Understatement of the year,_  Simon thinks about saying, “No, you haven’t," he says instead.

“You deserve a good person, Simon."

The way Bram says those six words automatically makes him feel bad. Simon pulls himself up off the ground and dusts the grass from his clothing. “Just because you made a few mistakes, doesn’t mean you’re a bad person. Everything you’ve done is redeemable. So… if that's all you're hung up on, call me when you’ve got your shit figured out, okay?”


	21. [BRAM] Don't Call Me

**FRIDAY (CONT.)**

Upon entering the house, Bram is hit with the scent of a home-cooked meal. For a moment, he wonders if his mother had hired someone to make supper, but when he walks into the kitchen there she is, pulling a tray of baked chicken from the oven.

It’s a weird sight. She hasn’t been around very much after the divorce, usually staying at work until later on in the evening. Bram doesn’t even remember the last time he’s eaten a home-cooked meal anyplace other than Garrett’s. But here she is, cooking dinner and actually sending a smile in his direction.

“Hello,” She finally greets, “How was school?”

There is the crack in the spell. “I received my bio grade—”

“I meant how was your day?”

Taken aback, Bram blinks a few times before questioningly replying, “You want to know about my day?”

His mother’s bottom lip wobbles slightly, but she turns around to stir the pots on the stovetop, “I hate how surprised you are that I'm asking.”

“Um,” Bram blanks, not able to conjure up a reply to that. An awkward silence spreads, so he hikes his bag on his shoulder and slinks back towards the staircase.

“I apologize for going through your things,” His mother suddenly says, stopping him dead.

Although the very thought is still a sore spot, Bram shrugs and says, “It’s your house.”

“It’s _our_ house,” His mother corrects, taking a step foreword, “You’re a very smart boy, Abraham, and sometimes I forget that intellect extends out of the classroom. Disregard any advice I’ve given you over the past few months about your friends, alright?”

“Oh.”

She walks closer, and he allows her to pull him into a hug. Slowly, he wraps his arms around her as well and just like that, he really wants to cry. “Your friends… I feel horrible about the things I’ve said about them. Especially Garrett, he’s a very kind boy. Very stubborn, as well.”

He pulls away, eyebrows furrowed, “What—”

She smiles, warm and teary-eyed, “We’ve been speaking over text for the past few weeks. That boy just won’t give up. He really cares about you, Abraham.”

Bram blinks, throat closing up. His eyes _burn_ because while Bram was too busy being a snake, Garrett was attempting to help his home life. All this time, Garrett had been fighting with his mother not to prove himself, but to _help Bram_.

“I think—” He manages to get out, “I think I did something horrible.”

His mother levels him with a worried look, but as she opens her mouth to reply, the doorbell rings.

 

 

 

 

Bram pushes the last of his dinner about his plate, unwilling to glance up at the boy sitting across from him.

Garrett doesn’t seem to notice his nervousness, or if he does he doesn’t mention it. Instead, he converses with Bram’s mother openly about some new reality show on TV. They’re laughing together and talking shit about the cast and Bram can’t _take_ it.

“Excuse me,” He grumbles, getting up and putting his plates in the dishwasher before escaping up to his room.

The blue walls seem to close in on him on all sides as he falls onto his bed. Old glow-in-the-dark stickers stare down at him, not quite lit up yet—just plain, faded yellow stars that shouldn’t even be up there anymore. He’s too old for them.

“Hey, man,” Garrett greets upon walking in.

Bram sits up immediately, eyes only flicking to the other boy for a quick second before landing on the wall across the room. Slowly, Garrett sits criss-cross on the bed, mirroring Bram and asks, “Are you angry?”

“Angry?”

“Well, yeah,” Garrett fidgets, looking away when Bram finally glances over, “I mean, I went behind your back and talked to your mom about something that wasn’t my business, sooo…” He shrugs, “You can be mad.”

“I’m not mad,” Bram replies, possibly too quick.

“Something’s wrong, though, bro,” His best friend replies, grinning lop-sided, “You have your _I’m freaking out_ face on.”

“I don’t have a _I’m freaking out_ face,” Bram tries his best to relax.

In reply, Garrett raises an eyebrow, leaning back on his arms. It takes Bram a moment to conjure up the courage to speak, and in said few seconds he debates on admitting to the account or not. After all, it’s gone, out of existence. The drama of it all will likely be forgotten by the start of next week.

But if he doesn't come clean, it'll be lingering on his conscience forever.

“I, um,” He pauses, running his tongue across the backside of his teeth, “I have to tell you something about the Instagram accounts.”

Garrett nods, sitting back up straight. Looking at him, how he’s intent on knowing what’s going on, makes Bram feel the guilt ten-fold.

“Jackie and I spoke, and she told me Max rants to her online,” Bram’s heart beats fast in his chest, feeling as though it’s about to break through. With a deep breath, he says quietly, “So, I offered to help her with an assignment, but look screenshots of her chats.”

Garrett’s quiet, now. When Bram sneaks a glance at him, he’s still watching Bram, a deeply puzzled look on his features.

“You started this shit?”

Bram winces, “I don’t have an excuse—"

“No, man, you do. I mean, you did it because Spier thought you outed him or whatever, right?”

Bram nods. Garrett looks away, “My life’s been upside down all day. My parents have been jumpy around me, because apparently they somehow saw the one about… you know. Not to mention people at school think I’m racist because of the out-of-context message.”

“I’m sorry.”

Garrett looks at him for a long time, before finally looking down at the bedspread. It’s another few moments before he speaks again, “Really? Everything worked out just fine for you.”

“Garrett—”

“Sorry, I’m just a little pissed right now, you know? If you would’ve talked to me about this shit rather than make a fucking hate account, it would all be chill. I would’ve shown Burke the texts, who would’ve told Spier you’re innocent. No drama.”

“I never thought about it.”

“I know, that’s the problem,” Garrett stands up, running his fingers through his hair as he moves towards the door. Bram doesn’t stop him, but he hesitates near the threshold, “You really need to get over this _I-can-do-everything-on-my-own_ complex.”

He lingers a moment longer, then quietly says, “Don’t call me.”

Then he’s gone, leaving Bram alone in a small room full of dull stars, with only his thoughts to keep him company.


	22. [SIMON] Mission 'Get Simon Spier the Boy'

**SATURDAY**

Simon hasn’t been sleeping for the past few days.

Which really freaking sucks, considering the human body kinda needs sleep to function. He’s been moving for the past few hours like a zombie— tired but unable to fall asleep. Nora tries to help, offering some pills she has—which they’re totally gonna talk about later, because where she got these pills is beyond him—but Simon declines and ends up in front of the television watching Keeping Up with the Kardashians at five o’clock in the morning.

He’s in such a haze that he doesn’t realize the front door had opened before Alice steps in front of the TV, scaring the absolute shit out of him.

“Hey, bub,” She greets, grinning brightly, “Long time no talk. Have you ever heard about FaceTime, Simon? It’s this app on your phone—”

“Shut up,” Simon stands up shakily, practically falling into her arms, “I’ve had a stressful few weeks, sue me for not remembering.”

Alice pulls back slightly, keeping a strong hold on his biceps, “You gonna elaborate there?”

Rolling his eyes, Simon says, “Cut the shit, Alice. Nora totally told you everything.”

“Nora totally told me everything,” Alice nods, “But I was totally disappointed in the fact that you had your first boyfriend and didn’t tell me!”

“He's not my boyfriend. Also, you didn’t tell us about Theo until, like, three months after you guys were official, so you have no room to be disappointed.”

“You’re deflecting!” She exclaims, “Tell me about your not-boyfriend.”

“It’s five o’clock in the morning, Alice—”

“It’s not like you sleep anymore, anyway.”

“Jesus, how much does Nora tell you?” He narrows his eyes as he sits down next to her, but there’s not heat behind it.

“Everything she knows, probably,” Nora clicks her tongue, “So am I gonna get your side of things?”

“Probably not,” Simon replies, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.

“Okay.”

Simon waits for a moment, then another. Slowly, he tilts his head over and opens his eyes, utterly confused, “You’re not gonna push for gossip?”

“Nah,” She shrugs, “You don’t wanna tell me. It’s cool.”

He rolls his eyes, because of _course_ he was gonna eventually spill the info. Which he does, later on after lunch when his parents and Theo are outside and Nora's downstairs with the rest of Emoji, getting in as much practice as they could before the talent show later on that week. Which, as it turns out, is why Alice is here in the first place.

They sit on her childhood bed as he rants on, not missing a detail of the drama. Miraculously, Alice doesn’t speak the entire time. It _must_ be a record. She usually enjoys interrupting to put in her own two-cents.

“Then I saw him at Nick’s last night,” Simon shrugs, finishing his explanation of events, “We talked.”

“That’s a step in the right direction,” Alice smiles softly, “Did you tell him how much him ignoring you made you feel?”

“Uh, no?”

“Okay. Did you tell him how much you want to be with him?”

“Not… exactly?”

“Simon,” She groans, “What did you talk about, then?”

“Well, it was only for, like, two minutes?”

Alice levels him with a _look_ , “He came to see you, probably panicked because of your text, and you only talked to him for _two minutes_ , and didn’t even really speak about anything important.”

“We also played soccer?”

“ _Simon_.”

“I mean,” He shrugs, “We kinda talked about something important. I told him to get rid of the drama, then we can be together.”

“Okay, great,” She tilts her head to the side, “But shouldn’t you be _helping_ him get through the drama, instead of leaving him to fend for himself?”

“I haven’t really thought about… that…”

“Oh my god.”

“I’m new to this!” Simon exclaims, “I’ve never really dated anyone for real!”

“I know, bub,” Alice wraps an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into a side-hug, “So it’s a good thing you’ve got me. I’m here for the week, so that’s seven days to successfully complete mission _Get Simon Spier the Boy_.”

Simon scoffs, “We are _not_ calling it that.”

“Shhh,” Alice pats his head, “Accept it.”


	23. [BRAM] Everything is Harder on Your Own

**MONDAY**

The tables in the library have shiny, waxed tabletops that make it easy for Bram to slide a small box across. It stops just before Jackie, who looks up from her computer in surprise. “Hi?” Her lips are pulled in a confused smile as she takes up the coffee that’s offered seconds later. After the first sip, she exclaims, “Bram Greenfeld! You got me the right milk-to-sugar ratio!”

Shyly, Bram mumbles, “I asked your friends,” He pushes the other present closer, “I also got you a cupcake.”

At once, Jackie closes her laptop and moves it out of the way to look inside the small white box. Her grin brightens as she pulls the cupcake out, “Thank you, Bram! But you didn’t—”

“I wanted to,” He insists, to which she just shrugs and takes a bite.

They sit in relative silence as Jackie eats her treat. Bram spends this time sifting through possible sentences in his head, conjuring up more and more apologies to spew at the girl.

“What’s up?” She interrupts his thoughts, pulling off a piece of the cake and popping it into her mouth, “I know you’re not here for my, um, company.”

“I wanted to apologize—”

“Nope!” Jackie shouts, possibly a bit too loud for a library, “I don’t wanna hear it, okay? That’s all behind us! I’d rather talk about something else like, uhhh, how about Garrett? How’s he doing after getting outed?”

Bram furrows his brows, “Outed?”

Jackie shrugs, looking down as she scoops up a glob of pink frosting on her finger, “The texts about Cal Price on the Instagram account? Everyone was talking about it this morning, but on the downlow, yanno? I guess nobody wants to get outed for gossiping about _Star Jock_ Garrett Laughlin.”

“Texts?” Bram doesn’t remember them. The only text messages he remembers from Garrett’s Instagram account were those about himself.

“Uh, yeah,” Jackie leans forewords, “Did you somehow not notice?”

“I did not.” He confesses, beyond confused, “Garrett’s—”

“At least boys-with-2015-fringes-sexual,” Jackie sucks the icing off her finger, looking unimpressed, “I can’t believe you didn’t realize. And he hasn’t talked to you about it? Um, at all? Apparently he has a boner for Cal Price.”

Bram leans back in his chair, quiet as he processes this.

Jackie pouts her lips out, “You really didn’t know, wow. Are you two… okay?”

“No,” He admits, “I’ve been a terrible friend.”

“Why?”

“Why?”

“ _Why?”_

Bram thinks about changing the subject, but swallows down the thought and shrugs, “I don’t know how to talk to him.”

“Ohh, do you know what this sounds like?” She takes a sip of her drink, “ _Lying_.”

“I’m not,” Bram exhales, “I don’t know how to speak to him.”

Slowly, Jackie leans forewords, “If you always tell yourself that, how’re you ever gonna improve, Bram?”

He opens his mouth to give some sort of weak counter, but Jackie tuts, “You’re a good friend, you doof! If you’re bad at talking to him in real life, there’s a thing called texting! Or you can be all old-fashioned and use e-mail! It’s probs not _ideal_ but at least it’s a step in the right direction!”

Bram nods slowly. An e-mail, he could do that.

 

 

 

 

**TUESDAY**

FROM: bluegreen118@gmail.com  
TO: garrettlaughlin2001@gmail.com  
DATE: October 24 at 1:32am  
SUBJECT: I’m Sorry.

 

Garrett,

In the seventh grade, I punched a boy who’d been bullying me all semester.

When I was sent to the guidance councillor afterwards, she asked me why I never told anyone this was happening. Naturally, I had gone on to explain it was nobody’s business but my own, to which she told me I needed to stop trying to go up against the world all by myself. That if I didn’t stop bottling problems up, I would continue to explode in these fits. At the time, I thought she was clueless, but now I’m beginning to believe she was right.

I **do** bottle things up. I **do** inevitably explode. With my mother and my grades. With Simon and Max. For some reason, I push myself away from those I care about and end up making brash decisions because of it.

As I sat pouting that day, the councillor only smiled and told me one last thing: “Every person is an island and the only bridge to other is through words. As long as we don’t talk to each other, we end up becoming lonely little islands.”

I’ve grown into a lonely island. Just a few weeks ago, I believed doing everything on my own was fine. Just a few **days** ago, even. But now I’ve realized just how awful my life has become, because everything is harder on your own.

I’m sorry for what I’ve done and what I haven’t done, Garrett. For keeping secrets as well as ignoring what’s been happening in your life.

I’d like to learn how to be a better friend, if you’ll have me.

Bram.


	24. [SIMON] I’d Like To Say a Million Things

**THURSDAY**

Following rehearsals, Simon’s intercepted by Leah and Abby and an offer of a dinner at WaHo. He’s quick to decline, because no offence to them, but going to Waffle House as a trio feels like third-wheeling, lately.

So, instead, he just waves them off and makes for the door closest to the student parking lot. It just so happens to be the student-titled _Makeout Alley_ , where he prays he doesn’t see a couple doing, like, _it_. However, when he opens the door, there’s a couple Frenching against the wall, because _of course_ there is.

It wouldn’t be all too surprising, but it’s _Taylor and Garrett._ Which just feels weird. Totally weird. Maybe it’s because Simon’s aware of the blackmail-y history behind them.

A honk sounds from the distance and Taylor pulls away, smiling. “I’ve gotta go,” Simon hears faintly as she gives Garrett one last peck on the lips. As she’s jogging off, she shouts, “You look really hot today, by the way!”

Simon blinks, because is this some sort of fever dream? Did Taylor freaking Metternich just spout a sentence that _didn’t_ somehow end with a compliment for herself.

Then he looks to Garrett, who’s leaning against the wall, scuffing the toe of his shoe against the pavement. It’s not… it’s not a scene Simon would _think_ someone should have after making out with someone.

“Wow,” Simon breaks the silence, nearly giving the poor blonde a heart attack. Garrett glances up in alarm, but calms when he realizes it’s just Simon.

“Hey, Spier,” Garrett looks calm, but his jaw ticks, “What’s up?”

It’s kinda awkward, because Simon’s never really talked to _just_ Garrett before. He usually has Nick to bounce off of. So, he goes for the humorous approach to this scene, “At least you two had the decency to kiss out here rather than in the dressing room.”

Simon pauses, because to think of it, he’s never really heard about them dating. You’d think because it’s Taylor Metternich that it’d be all over the school. “Since when are you two together, by the way?”

There’s a moment when Simon honest to god thinks Garrett’s about to flee. But then he just shifts from foot to foot, glancing anywhere but at Simon. “We hooked up after your preparty,” He admits, shrugging, “I don’t know. New we kinda just make out and study together.”

“Ah.”

“We haven’t told anyone,” Garrett looks up quickly, eyes boring into Simon’s, “I don’t know if I _want_ to tell anyone.”

“Okay?”

“Not that I’m embarrassed. She’s the hottest girl at school, right? That’s what people say? I just,” Garrett adjusts the strap of his bag, “I don’t have any feelings for her, so it would be wrong to tell everyone we’re dating, yanno? I only like one person.”

Simon nods, glancing away. An uncomfortable silence passes through, briefly, because Garrett scoffs. “I know you _know_ who I’m talking about, Spier. Everyone knows, now.”

“Yeah…”

“I don’t even know _how_ I got this crush, ‘cause I’ve never really liked…” Garrett cuts himself short, substituting whatever he was about to say with, “this _type_ or person before.”

And because Simon’s filter _never_ works, he blurts out, “Why are you telling me this?”

There’s another silence, where Garrett opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. His jaw clicks closed and he glances down, scoffing his shoe against the pavement again, face flushing slightly. “Um. You’re here?” He glances up once again, “I don’t really have anyone else right now, except for Eisner. But he… I don’t think he’d understand, so.”

“What about Bram?”

Garrett rolls his eyes, glancing away with a short, humorless bark of laughter, “Greenfeld and I aren’t talking.”

“Okay.”

Another silence passes, where Garrett fools around with his bag’s strap and Simon watches, thinking. He thinks Garrett’s gonna speak a few times, as he glances up and _looks_ like he’s about to say something, but it never comes. Eventually, Simon takes the poor kid out of his misery.

“I never got a chance to apologize,” he says, “About you and Leah.”

“Oh,” Garrett looks up, a small smile on his lips, “Don’t worry about it. You were right, she didn’t look at me like that. Apparently, I didn’t either, because I wasn’t jealous at all when she—”

“Still.” Simon cuts him off,  “I’m sorry. I broke up your guys’ friendship.”

“No? You didn’t?” Garrett looks confused, “We only stopped talking for about two days before we hashed it out on FaceTime. She’s a good friend.”

“Yeah,” Simon agrees, “But you left the lunch table…?”

With a quiet chuckle, Garrett says, “Oh, yeah, that was all Greenfeld. He’s kind of a mess, if you haven’t noticed. When he gets a crush, he panics.”

Feeling his cheeks heating up, Simon he looks down in some sort of attempt at hiding the smile that’s coming. When he looks up, Garrett looks amused.

Simon gets it now, why Bram and Nick hang around this stupid jock. Maybe Garrett’s kinda a douche, but he’s also pretty _cool_ sometimes. “Do you want a ride home?” Simon asks, pulling his car keys out.

 _That_ is how Simon finds out that when Garrett grins, his entire face lights up.

 

 

 

 

They pull up outside of Garrett’s house after the ten minute drive full of arguing over the radio and the _Bachelorette_ , because apparently Garrett watches just as much reality TV as Simon. There’s a moment when they just sit in silence, before Garrett’s pulling his phone out.

“I shouldn’t show you this, but,” He shoves the cell into Simon’s hands, “Greenfeld’s probably never going to do anything about it, so…”

It’s a conversation with _GREENFELD_. Or, a bunch of conversations, all about _Simon_ and _crushes_ and Bram freaking out, mostly.

The second most recent one reads:

 

_I went over with the intentions of confessing, but I stole his soccerball instead. What am I, twelve years old?_

_spier plays soccer? lol wat_

 

Simon kinda wants to punch himself. He was apparently _this close_ to getting a boyfriend, but instead all he got was drama. _And drama was what he was trying to avoid._ Jeeeesus, he really can’t get anything right lately.

Then, the latest one, timestamped only the day before:

 

_I really need advice._

_I think Simon hates me._

_I don’t want him to hate me, Garrett. I think we’re soulmates, or something along that caliber._

 

Bram never got a reply for that one, Simon realizes.

There are more, from before. Simon skims through them, quickly realizing Garrett is in no way, shape, or form good at giving relationship advice.

“So?”

“So.” Simon echos, slowly handing the phone back over.

Garrett’s practically vibrating in his seat. Simon raises a brow, “I thought you were mad at Bram?”

“Yeah, but he’s still my bestfriend.”

“You just leaked his texts?”

“Yeah, well, he got mine leaked. Anyway, _are you going to talk to him now?”_

 

 

 

 

**FRIDAY**

Simon… doesn’t text Bram.

He means to. Like, he really does. But everytime he’d even _open_ the message app, a wave of anxiety hits him like a truck, and thoughts of _if he cared, he’d text first_ would cross his mind so quickly.

 

 

 

 

The auditorium fills up quickly for the talent show, but luckily Nora has saved the family seats. Simon leads them down to their reservations, waving to Nick and Leah as he passes them. Garrett’s there too, as is Abby’s group. Everyone except for Bram, it seems.

Before too long, the concert is starting. Taylor Metternich gets up on stage and does an intro, but after that, everything is a blur.

Since they’re seated far enough back, Simon figures he can go on his phone and not look too rude. As he loads up the Facebook app, complaining to himself about the horrible signal, an iMessage notification pops up on his screen.

 

 **[CHAT:** Bram **]**

 **Bram:** Dear Simon,  
**Bram:** I’m sitting at the first place we met, thinking about you. I’d like to say a million things. I apologize for hurting you. I apologize for ignoring you. I apologize for creating drama.  
 **Bram:** I was afraid of losing you.  
**Bram:** I guess I hadn’t realized it’s impossible to lose someone, as we’re all alone anyway.

 

Simon’s out of his seat and down the isle before he even _realizes_ what he’s doing. Nick gives him a weird look as he passes and mouths something, but Simon doesn’t stop. He just leaves the room, breaking into a jog once the door is closed behind him.

Sliding to a stop, Simon makes eye contact with Bram just outside the cafeteria. When their eyes meet, Bram freezes, expression one of pure surprise.

He looks like he’ll bolt at any moment, so Simon approaches carefully. Bram doesn’t move once they’re face-to-face, so Simon reaches out, fingers grazing the pulse-point on the other boy’s wrist. Slowly, he slides his hand into Bram’s, intertwining their fingers.

“You’re not alone,” Simon says.

There’s a moment where Bram just stares at their hand, and Simon doesn’t know if he’s even heard a word of what's just been said. Then, there’s another moment, where this time Bram pulls his hand away, just to follow up with pulling Simon into a bone-crushing hug.

“I’m sorry,” Bram’s saying, over and over into Simon’s neck like a mantra, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Simon breaths, pulling back far enough to slide his hands to cup Bram’s jaw for eyecontact, “Hey, it’s _okay_. We’re okay. We just— we just have to _talk_.”

Bram nods, just once before he’s ducking back into the hug.


	25. [BRAM] BramAndSimon

**FRIDAY (CONT.)**

Bram’s room has never felt as lively as it does now, with Simon Spier inside.

There is no Elliott Smith playing in the background, nor is there any words being spoken between them, but that’s the magic, Bram thinks. Simon lights up any room _just by being inside of it._

His bed is a single, but they make it work. Facing each other, pulled up close as they just _watch_. Simon’s so pretty this close, Bram realizes quickly. Last time, he never got a chance to fully appreciate the view, too engrossed in kissing.

“Do you believe in parallel universes?” Simon asks suddenly.

Bram shrugs his shoulders, but he could feel himself smiling ever so slightly, “Sometimes.”

“Okay, then how many Simon and Bram’s do you think are lying like this?”

“Infinite.” Bram replies, because that’s how parallel universes work, isn’t it?

Simon wrinkles his nose, “I don’t… like thinking about that. I want it just to be _us_ , you know?”

“Technically it _is_ us, Simon.”

“Well, duh, but, like. I want us to be _special_ , you know? I don’t want there to be more than one _BramAndSimon_.”

Simon presses closer then, to which Bram wraps an arm around his waist. It takes a few moments to muster up the courage, but Bram sighs and mumbles, “I’m sorry about everything.”

This time it’s Simon who sighs, hiding his face in Bram’s arm for a quick moment before pulling back, “I’ve told you like, _a million times_ to stop apologizing. It’s in the past, leave it there.”

“Still.”

“Are you going to Garrett’s Halloween party tomorrow night?” Simon changes the subject abruptly.

Bram doesn’t know why he asks this question, as Simon _knows_ how his relationship is like with Garrett right now. “I don’t believe I’m invited.”

“Hmm,” Simon hums, sliding his fingers into Bram’s hair, “I think you’d be surprised.”

 

 

 

 

**SATURDAY**

Upon waking up, Bram’s iPhone notifies him of a text from William.

It’s like a bucket of ice has been dumped on his head when he realizes that they still believe Jackie was the one behind the Instagram account, while she’s done nothing wrong. Bram figures he could leave it, allow her to forever take the blame.

“ _Can we meet up?”_ Bram texts Max and William instead.

 

 

 

 

Simon’s making breakfast in the kitchen with Bram’s mother, somehow looking _excellent_ despite the time. His mother is beaming, looking at Simon as though he’s the best thing that’s happened to the universe. Bram can’t help but agree.

 

 

 

 

“It’s a good idea, I guess,” Simon speaks slowly, as though he’s trying to convince himself of the words, “It’s your last wrong to right, huh?”

“Yeah,” Bram breaths out, fingers rubbing circles into the skin of Simon’s lower back. The smaller boy is smiling, eyes heavy-lidded as he hums, content.

“Then I think you should go for it,” He reaches up, fingers gently pulling Bram’s chin down so the angle is _just right_.

Bram doesn’t think he’ll ever get sick of kissing Simon Spier.

 

 

 

 

Will and Max are sitting at one of the tables at the Starbucks they’ve agreed to meet at, swirling straws about in their cups. They’re laughing together, as though they _hadn’t_ practically destroyed Garrett’s life only a few days previous.

Immediately, Bram feels dread wash over him at the thought of what’s about to happen. He pushes himself on, and walks up to their table with a small, nervous smile.

“Hi,” Bram says.

Both boys look up as Bram takes the seat across from them. Will still has a grin on his face as he exclaims, “Hey! What’s up?”

“Oh, um. Not much…”

An uncomfortable silence settles upon the boys, killing the excited mood the boys had created only moments before. Slowly, Max’s smile slides off his face and he fidgets, shaking his plastic cup as he stares down at the drink, “Sorry about the Instagram, by the way. I know Laughlin’s your best friend, or whatever.”

“Apparently this shit can lead to expulsion,” Will snorts, rolling his eyes, “So that’s great.”

Bram feels his stomach jump, throat dry as he croaks out a, “What?”

“Yeah. We’re personally not going to report Jackie, but Laughlin won’t pick up our calls, so we have no clue what he’s gonna do.”

“I just like—” Max inturrupts them abruptly, “ _why_ would Jackie make the account? We had no fucking beef. It makes no sense.”

Will shrugs, “Maybe she was mad ‘cause you hooked up with that one girl on the cheer team?”

“She’s never gotten angry about that shit before,” Max shakes his head.

“I don’t understand what does on in her head, bro.”

“It wasn’t Jackie.” The words leave Bram’s mouth, slipping past his filter.

Two pairs of eyes are suddenly on him, full of confusion.

“Uh, yeah it was?” Will glances over to Max, then back, “She admitted to it and the messages matched.”

 _It’s now or never_. “I took pictures of her messages,” Bram says, suddenly thankful for asking to meet in such a crowded place. It’s the only thing keeping him from getting punched by Max, who suddenly looks _murderous_.

“You’re fucking serious?” Max asks, suddenly abruptly standing up, “Do you know how much shit this has gotten me into? Mina won’t fucking talk to me, and neither will her stupid-ass clique. Not to mention everyone in this fucking school either glares at me or gives me looks of _pity_.”

Will grasps his wrist, but Max yanks out of the grip, rolling his eyes. “This is a waste of time. Garrett knows that if he reports it, Bram will get expelled, too. He won’t do it. _So why are we still here?”_

“I won’t report what?” Garrett asks, falling into the last empty seat. His arm lands on the back of Bram’s chair, “And sit down, bro. You’re causing a scene.”

Max is visibly gritting his teeth as he lowers himself back down. Bram blinks, then blinks again. _How_ Garrett knew he was here is beyond him, although he suspects Simon has something to do with it.

“Report us for making the account,” Will says, draping his arm along the back of Max’s chair, as though mirroring Garrett was some sort of _challenge_.

“Oh,” Garrett shrugs, reaching over to grab Max’s mostly-filled drink, “Probs not.”

“ _Probs not?”_ Max seethes.

“Probs not,” Garrett gives him a sickly sweet smile, biting down on his straw.

 

 

 

 

The pickup truck is old—blue and white paint chipping everywhere. But inside it smells like the same scent of axe bodyspray Garrett’s used since middle school, and for some reason it’s _calming_.

“Thank y—”

“So, I was thinking we dress up as Captain America and Bucky Barnes for my party tonight,” Garrett interrupts Bram, pulling out of the parking lot just as carelessly as ever, “I think you’d make a good Bucky.”

He looks over, then, with a giant grin. Bram smiles back, ducking his head. “Sounds great, man.”


	26. Fear Spreads. But, Fortunately, Love Does Too

**SATURDAY (CONT.)**

Simon’s roped into matching costumes with Leah, so he’s decked out as Jon Snow. The fake sword is heavy against his hip as they walk, but the eyeliner he’s wearing makes him look so freaking _cool_ , so he’ll deal.

She’s beside him, hand clasp in his own, dressed up as Daenerys Targaryen, whoever that is. They walk down the sidewalk, gossiping about Simon’s night at Bram’s house. Leah seems to think something happened, and well. _Maybe_. But he’d never tell Leah that.

Simon has a feeling she’s take the story and write, like, a _fanfic_ with the material.

Outside Garrett’s house, the lawn is covered in fake gravestones and spider web. Inside, they’re roped into helping Abby’s group set up the decorations. Garrett fusses over them, offering all kinds of drinks. Nick’s on the couch, strumming Garrett’s old acoustic, playing _This is Halloween._

Across the room, Olivia’s using Bram’s height to her advantage. Simon grins over at him, to which he receives a grin back, before the girl on Bram’s shoulders is bitching at him to _stay still_.

This whole scene is pretty home-y, Simon admits. He feels calm, _at home_. Like this is where he’s supposed to be. Like the earth is back on it’s axis after a few weeks of hell.

 

 

 

 

Cassie and Mina stand on chairs to hand up a _Halloween 2k17_ banner, both girls swaying dangerously as they stand on their tip-toes. Garrett places his hands on his hips, bottom lip pulled between his teeth as he judges. “It’s crooked.”

“It’s straight,” Olivia says from behind him.

“Its crooked.”

“Striaght.”

_“Crooked.”_

“It’s straight,” Molly says as she passes by, holding an armful of orange and black paper-ring decorations.

Garrett pulls a face, just as Olivia pats him on the head. “Maybe _you’re_ crooked, Laughlin.”

 

 

 

 

The party starts around ten. A bass-boosted version of _Monster Mash_ plays from Garrett’s speakers, because all the kid ever plays at his parties are loud remixes. Simon watches, pretty freaking amused, as a totally hammered Nick goes up against a very drunk Olivia in some sort of dance-off.

Meanwhile, Garrett’s getting more attention across the room, where he rips a hole in a beercan with his teeth, chugging down the liquid inside within moments. The girls around him erupt in giggles, but he ends up shoving through them in order to wrap an arm around Cal Price’s shoulders.

“I win,” He shouts, “Keg _and_ Dance King. I’m the full package.”

Cal laughs, eyebrows raised.

Simon glances around again and notices the tail-end of a girl walking into the kitchen.

 

 

 

 

“Hi,” He says as Jackie opens the fridge.

She grabs a cooler and closes the door, smiling softly as she cracks open the beverage. “Hey, Simon,” Jackie leans against the counter, “How’s it going?”

“It’s uh, been a long time since we talked.”

“Yeah, it’s been a while, huh?”

“Mmhm,” She nods, taking a sip of her drink before her eyes go wide, “Uh, hello? You got a boyfriend! Facebook official! Congrats!”

Simon lets out a bark of laughter, Jackie being the very last person he thought he’d be getting a congratulation from, “Thank you.”

“He’s a good guy. You better watch out, I might try and steal him.”

They laugh together and its strangely not very awkward, despite what’s gone down between them. Speaking of…

“I’ve, um, been thinking about something?”

She tilts her head to the side, prompting him to continue.

“I just want to say sorry for leading you on,” He shifts, “It wasn’t okay for me to do that. You’re a really nice girl and this is gonna sound really cheesy, so prepare yourself, but you deserve the world.”

“Thank you, Simon,” She smiles over the rim of her can, “But I’m over it! So you should be too! Oh shit! Hey! _Stay here!_ I have a surprise!”

Then she’s dashing out of the kitchen, a bark of laughter leaving her lips.

It’s not long before she’s back, Martin alongside her. He looks mighty drunk, cheeks a rosy red. “Hey, Spier.”

“We knew you were having… um, _troubles_. So we—”

“We did the project,” Martin grins lazily, then makes a _boom_ soundeffect, arms flailing out.

“What?” Simon’s eyes go wide.

“I mean,” Jackie smiles shyly, shrugging her shoulders, “You _and_ Bram just got outed, so we pulled a few all-nighters and got it all done. Mr. Wise loved our portrayal of MacBeth, too. All we have to do as a group is act out the scene Martin and I wrote.”

Simon jumps them, then. His arms wrap around their shoulders and he brings them into a tight grouphug.

 

 

 

 

Okay, Garrett _will_ admit it. He’s drank a bit much. But Cal’s got an arm around his waist and _goddamn_ , it’s way better than what he ever could’ve imagined. So, whatever. He can drink _as much as he wants_.

“Hey,” Reid walks over, grinning as he waves a piece of slightly crumpled paper in Garrett’s face, “You still gonna read this?”

Ah, shit. It’s _that_ paper. The one Garrett spent the previous night writing. It took _so long_ , considering he wasn’t good at writing, or English class in general.

“Eisner!” He shouts, then motions for a chair from the dining room. When it gets delivered through the mass of teens, Garrett untangles himself from Cal and steps up, only swaying slightly.

Someone turns the music off, and suddenly everyone is looking over. It’s attention Garrett welcomes, grinning in the spotlight as he looks over all his friends.

Especially Bram and Simon. His best friend has an arm draped across his new boyfriend’s shoulders, and the grin on his lips is the brightest one Garrett thinks he’s ever seen. It suits him.

Smiling softly, Garrett uncrumples his paper.

“Teens spend nine hours a day on social media, according to a study. Some adults say it’s a waste of time, but there’s a reason behind why we spend our days on _Facebook_ , _Instagram_ , etcetera.

We live in a chaotic world. It’s hard to understand the rules. But everything on social media is straightforward. If you see something you don’t like, you can just log out or block.

In the real world, people are scared of a lot of things, which often leads to hate. So, with all this hate in the world and no block option, it’s really not weird that people give up and stop believing in the good.

Thank you, Bram, for not giving up.

Because even though it can feel like it sometimes, no one’s ever alone. After all, we live in a society because we need people. People need people.

It can be tiring to deal with others; especially the ones you disagree and argue with, and those who think a different way than you. It doesn’t matter if some are from another state, another country, or someone with a different sexuality or race or just some lame Facebook friend from middle school. In a peaceful society with equal rights, we have to listen to (and try to understand) each other and remember:

Fear spreads. But, fortunately, love does too.”

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments are highly appreciated!
> 
> [my tumblr. you can request fics/ask me questions here.](https://idiotgrimes.tumblr.com)
> 
> [title](https://youtu.be/skE1ghsGK2s)


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